


Silver Bullets and Circuitry

by AraSigyrn, deannawol



Series: Friday Night Firefight - Bad Nights and Big Cities [4]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Explicit Language, Graphic Description, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:44:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 106,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannawol/pseuds/deannawol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's his dream job; a chance at revenge and a payoff that will buy him the life he always wanted in one once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  Adam 'Silverfyre' Lambert knows he's the best merc money can buy but for this job, he's going to need the very best systems-hacker/datarunner in the game.  Lucky for him, he knows exactly who he's looking for...</p><p>Once upon a time, Kris Allen wasn't afraid of anything.  That was then, this is now and Kris has resigned himself to a quiet, discreet life on the right side of the law.  He thinks he's buried his past; right up until a big bad merc calling himself 'Silverfyre' comes crashing into his life.  He wants Kris' help and he just won't take no for an answer.</p><p>One last job and they never have to see each other again.</p><p>They've just got to last that long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We'd love to thank a really good friend, Tacitus for all his help in getting this right. He asked questions and picked up the logic problems so that we could fix this and make it something that we hope you're going to like reading.
> 
> This story is set in a cyberpunk world. A world of computers and circuitry and built in cyberware. Morals are tricky things that most people don't bother with. Money rules the world and some of the more unscrupulous will do anything for a quick buck. It's harsh, it's vicious, it's cyberpunk. Think BladeRunner, think Matrix, think RepoMen...
> 
> This is a world of our own creation but it pulls a lot from the principles shown in those movies. We hope you'll enjoy it.

 

* * *

 _This_ wasn’t exactly how Adam had pictured his Tuesday night. Fighting for his life with half-fried connectors, guns almost empty, two magazines left and dressed in his most attractive combat armor. He _had_ pictured a date with Carlos, the newest bartender at _Idolize_ – old enough to be legal, hot enough to be worth the effort and with an ass that just begged to be grabbed – and he was running late. Carlos was probably crying on Terri’s shoulder and spreading it all around the bar that Adam was all talk and no follow through, but in Adam’s defense, it wasn’t his fault. This time.

 _Ping_

Adam ducked down behind the dumpster as he swapped out the empty magazines in his guns for his last pair of full replacements. Nine mil bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the metal above his head and Adam casually racked the slides of his dual sculpted Desert Eagles .50’s and fired back. He really missed the heads-up display: it had been a while since Adam had gone shooting without the benefit of his cyberware. Damn why the hell did they have to lead the attack with an EMP?! He was lucky that most of his cyberware had been switched off for the ride, but he’d been in the middle of tracking targets when the blast caught him. But thankfully, his targeting systems were a luxury, not a necessity. He heard a muffled cry of pain and a dull thump and mentally crossed one of his opponents off the list. By his count, that only left another four shooters.

There were times when Adam hated being a Face. A city-wide reputation and being someone that everyone knew and recognized meant Adam could pretty much name his price for a job but it occasionally meant some street punk took pot shots at him just to prove his balls had dropped. Adam had been running the streets for almost ten years now, taking contracts and making enemies, but recently it just seemed as if everyone in the entire goddamn sprawling metropolis that was San Diego was trying to kill him. Had someone put a price on his head again? Or had some hack screamsheet run another underground report on his exploits and encouraged every little cockroach in the city to make a reputation for themselves by taking him on. It was damned annoying and it didn’t look like there was an easy escape. He really didn’t need this right now. He’d have to ask Allison to look into it later, assuming, of course, that he got back to the club in one piece.

He rose to a crouch and got ready to move. He fired a burst of bullets around the edge of the dumpster, not caring really if he hit something but hoping that at least one bullet hit its mark. And then he was running. Ducked down and covered in armor, he kept moving. He felt one shot hit him about half way up his side and he stumbled before catching himself. He braced against a brick wall for a millisecond and then he was running again. He knew that he was going to have a spectacular bruise tomorrow but that was tomorrow. He had to get through tonight first.

Brickwork exploded inches above his head, showering him with shards of stone and plaster. He spared a second to look up at the hole. Bigger than his hand and deep. Whoever was manning the shotgun had switched to explosive shells. It didn’t look like luck is on his side tonight.

His carefully tailored, double stitched, custom _Dorsett Gibson_ armor with silver flame decals would shrug off nine mil bullets and standard shotgun shells, Adam knew that from experience. .50 caliber bullets were trickier, and he wasn’t sure that the weave would hold up if someone decided to upgrade, but so far no one was shooting high caliber ammo except for him. Explosive rounds were a wholly different story though. Not even his heavy duty runner armor would hold up against explosives. Whoever was hunting him was playing for keeps.

Adam scanned the buildings around him, tenement buildings, and apartment blocks long ago taken over by squatters and filled with down-on-their-luck families just hoping to survive. As much he needed cover, he couldn’t take the fight to them. He sighed. If only the bastards hadn’t laid out his bike. He could really have used her right now.

Another hail of bullets and he ducked into an alleyway, speeding down the potholed walkway until he skidded to a stop just short of the other end. Flattening himself against the wall, he took a deep breath and then ducked his head around, grabbing a quick view of the street.

Cars. All of them abandoned. Not a threat but he didn’t have time to hotwire one.

Pedestrians. Couple of gangers. Woman and children. Delivery boy. No obvious threat but nothing ruling them out either.

Stores. Shops. Markets. No cover.

He needed to keep going. One more street, one more minute and he would be almost to the industrial district. That was his turf. He grew up on these streets and knew every corner as well as his apartment, every nook, cranny and sniper spot.

Scuffing sounds came from the other end of the alley and Adam could just see the glint of a gun barrel as it poked around the corner. Then he was running again, as fast as his legs could carry him. He dodged through the parked cars, running in the street to keep a barrier between him and the gunmen. It was late enough that rush hour had been and gone and early enough that most of the clubs hadn’t opened yet.

“Shit, I lost…”

Adam heard the voice behind him and ducked down, still running.

“No, got him. Other side of the shit colored Nissan.”

He couldn’t spare the second to look over his shoulder, just kept running, forcing himself to open the distance until he was out of range of the shotgun he knew they had.

 _BOOM_

A car fifty meters behind him exploded sending shrapnel in every direction. He felt a dull thump against his back and then another one lower, the back of his leg, and then a sharp pain. He cursed quiet as he was able and reached down to touch the area with the back of a knuckle. His finger came away wet and red and there were some splashes on the silver barrel of his gun. He’d been hit and the pain grew with every step he took. Outrunning them wasn’t an option any more. He needed to get to cover and deal with whoever these idiots were.

He was just past the first warehouse, when he ducked into an alleyway, limping quickly to the back of the building and finding the stairs up to the roof. Climbing was tough, and he had to holster his guns to drag himself up the ladder. There was blood smeared on the rungs, a sure sign that he’d gone this way, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t have time, not with four trigger happy mercs chasing him. There was a door, metal and solid, about half way up the side of the warehouse and Adam knew that he could pick the lock with a knife.

It opened easily and he folded the switchblade up and tucked it back into its holder on his belt. A glance behind him told him that the runners were still on his trail and gaining ground. But that was just what he wanted. He slipped inside and stepped onto the gantry. Pulling the door closed behind him, he let his eyes adjust to the light.

“Come on, come on, come on.”

Without his cyberware, it took longer than he expected and he knew that he needed to curb his impatience. After what seemed like an eternity, he could see in the dim light of the warehouse. He moved, making his way along the catwalks and past offices. He knew this warehouse well thanks to a four week contract taken out by a group of “Legitimate Irish Businessmen”. It was nothing fancy, just a standard security contract but the pay had been good and the perks had been fantastic - enough free hardware to outfit any ten runners and a very pretty twink by the name of Jamie. Now, Adam just hoped that his former clients wouldn’t begrudge him the use of a couple of pieces of their merchandise.

He ducked into an office and grabbed the first aid kit from the wall before taking the stairs down to the lower level. He was just off the stairs when the upper door slammed open and two of the men stormed in. Adam allowed himself a smirk as one misjudged the distance to the edge and almost toppled over the thin railing. Only his friend's quick reflexes kept him on the platform. Adam pulled one of his guns and took aim.

 _BANG_

And the look of relief changed to one of disbelief as the man slumped to the floor, the sound echoing off the walls. His friend was on guard instantly, his handgun braced in both hands as he looked around but Adam was already behind a metal shipping crate, ducked down and out of sight. He squinted at the shipping labels on the side of the crates, searching for any code words.

“Jersey Peaches,” he tapped the display.

Just what he needed, Adam thought. He peered around the side of the crate, tracking the progress of the men. There were only two men on the gantry and Adam frowned. Closing his eyes, he listened, trying to filter out the beating of his heart. Two sets of footsteps, soft but steady, was all he could hear.

“Where’s your little friend?” Adam breathed, scanning every shadow he could see.

There was a flicker of light in the doorway, a flash of shadow and he knew. The last man was covering the exit, probably waiting for a signal or for Adam himself to come out. Well, that wouldn’t do. What fun was a party where the guests stayed outside?

With a last flick around the catwalks, Adam dropped the first aid kit and started on the crate’s security system. It was nothing complicated, just a standard alphanumeric code and easily cracked if you knew the men involved – mistress’ birthday, wife’s middle name and the last four digits of the social security number of his secret gay lover. Adam wasn’t surprised when the light flashed green and the crate swung open. If he was still in charge of security, he’d tell the boss to change his unlock codes, but as it was, Adam was damned happy he hadn’t.

Adam slid out the first row of weaponry and ran his hands over the pristine Kalashnikovs just sitting there, waiting for him. Picking one from the tray, he dug under it for a magazine and clicked it home as quietly as he could. He thumbed the auto fire selector to three round burst and moved into position. The merc to his left was closer, almost to the stairs and Adam lined up the shot.

The gun kicked hard against his shoulder but he compensated, resisting the pull to raise the barrel after the first shot. Three hits, dead centre. Adam was moving before his target dropped, making his way further back into the darkness at the back of the warehouse. Crates were stacked eight and ten high there and Adam didn’t have to crouch.

“Petey? Petey, situation?” the man on the right called out.

Adam rolled his eyes. Petey? What sort of street name was Petey? What was the guy on the right called? Stevey? Mercs these days had no appreciation for the street. No drama, no flair. And that right there? That was how Adam knew that he was going to win. There was no way that fate was going to let him catch a shot from someone without a street name. He bit back a laugh. What sort of news story would that make?

 _‘Famous Street Merc Silverfyre Killed by Unknown Runner, Stevey.’_

No. Couldn’t happen! Allison would drag his ass back and bawl him out for ruining all the hard work she’d done since becoming his fixer. She hadn’t spent all that time building up his name, his rep just for him to be shot by some no name, no talent bozo who just happened to get a lucky hit. And she wouldn’t be shy about telling him either.

Adam peeked out from his sanctuary, the Kalashnikov tracking as he watched Stevey make his way across to his fallen comrade. It was like Stevey’d forgotten why he was there. His gun was down, loose in his hand and he started wailing. Adam winced as he heard the crack of Stevey’s knees impacting the concrete. Adam sighted his target and pulled the trigger. Another three shots and Stevey collapsed on top of Petey.

Just one left, but he was outside the building waiting for an engraved invitation and Adam was in just the mood to give it to him.

“Just you and me now,” Adam called, his voice carrying in the silence of the warehouse. “What say we finish this dance?” There was no response and Adam snuck forward, back to his original hiding spot. “Sorry about your friends.”

There was a scuffle of feet and Adam watched the door carefully, training his gun on the opening, ready to pull the trigger the second he got a clear shot. He didn’t move, just watched, waited, counting off the seconds. After three minutes passed and nothing had happened, Adam settled back against the crate and picked up the first aid kit.

He had to put down the rifle to root through the contents but he found a pressure bandage. He ripped the sterile packaging with his teeth and pulled it from the plastic. The shrapnel was in an awkward position and he needed to brace himself against one of the metal crates as he wrapped the gauze around his leg. He didn’t dare even think about pulling the chunk of metal from where it split the skin. He was almost sure that it hadn’t hit anything vital but caution and experience told him that it was better to leave the shrapnel in place until he had a hell of a lot more to work with than just a shitty little office first aid box. He tied off the bandage and already he could feel the support that it gave him.

 _BZZZZ_

Adam didn’t jump as his phone vibrated but it was close. He pulled the earpiece out of his pocket and hooked it over his ear as he pushed the button.

“Where the hell have you been?” a shrill voice shrieked in his ear, “I’ve been trying to call you for the last thirty minutes.”

“Allie...” Adam started, his voice barely above a whisper, but he was cut off before he could say another word.

“Don’t you ‘Allie’ me, Adam. Carlos has spent the last twenty minutes crying on my shoulder. You owe me a new silk blouse.”

He could picture her, standing in her office, hands on her hips, pacing up and down as she yelled into the phone and suddenly he was glad he had half a city between them.

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself?” she asked.

Of course, that was the moment that Tall, Dark and Shadowy decided to take a pot shot at him. Adam ducked lower behind the crate and squeezed the trigger, blasting the doorframe to shards.

“Adam?” Allison’s voice was thick with worry, “Adam, was that gunfire? Where are you? Do you need me to send backup? Adam? Answer me!”

Adam rolled his eyes, “Allie, calm down. Need you to hit up your contracts for me. See if some one's decided to put a contract out on me again. Please?”

He heard the familiar squeak of her office chair and the tapping of keys. The shadows in the doorway flashed again and Adam had to duck as the guy swept the warehouse floor with suppression fire. Bullets impacted the crate he was hiding behind and Adam was moving again. He skirted the dead bodies and made his way up the stairs. His leg was throbbing now, and he still limped but he knew that he couldn’t afford the distraction.

“Nothing that I can see,” Allison finally answered and Adam cursed. “I’ll try a couple of other people. People know where I hang out, wouldn’t be smart to post a contract there. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll see who’s online.”

“Sure, Allie,” Adam breathed, “I’ll just hang out here and shoot the breeze, yeah?”

“Don’t get snarky with me, mister,” her voice was full of sass, “You still owe me a new shirt, remember?”

“Bill me!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Adam was glad. He needed all his concentration right now.

“Adam, are you okay? You sound, I don’t know, strained?” she asked, her voice quiet and Adam could hear the worry creeping back in.

“I’m fine,” Adam lied, “I just need a couple of minutes to finish this off, okay?”

“Sure,” Allison went quiet.

Adam’s back was to the wall as he made his way along the catwalk, using it for support as he held the gun up. He pulled his hand away from the trigger, shaking it out to relax the muscles before he let his fingers slip back into place. He was almost to the door. Holding his breath, he steadied himself and counted to three. He thumbed the selector to fully automatic and ducked around the door, finger pressing hard on the trigger. Bullets spat from the Kalashnikov and it was half a second and fifteen bullets before Adam realized that he was shooting at thin air. He relaxed his finger and looked around. The ladder, the ground, all empty. No sign of anyone. Adam lowered the gun a little, puzzled when...

 _WHAM_

Feet slammed into his back and Adam was knocked forward, off the far-too-small ledge just outside the door. The gun fell clattering to the ground as Adam struggled to grab onto the ladder. His fingers slipped from the first rung and he fell. He scrambled wildly and managed to catch hold of a lower rung. Just. Pain shot down his arms to his shoulder and down his back, settling there.

“Adam?” Allison shrieked in his ear. “ADAM?”

“Little busy, honey,” Adam said through gritted teeth.

His leg, the injured one, didn’t seem to have the strength to support him and slipped off the step as he tried to climb the ladder, sending more pain coursing through him. He looked up, trying to see where his opponent was. It didn’t take much searching, or indeed any, because there on the step, hunkered down, with a gun in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face was Crusader.

Adam spat out every filthy profanity that he could think of, making up a few new ones on the spot. Of all the piece of scum mercs to get taken down by, he just had to get finished by Crusader. Talk about adding insult to injury. Crusader, in his own mind, was a street soldier sent by God to rid the streets of the scum of the city, an Angel in bifocals and charity shop armored suits. To the rest of the city however, he was an annoyance who managed to get in everyone’s way every time he left his rat-trap apartment. That Adam was in this position thanks to this idiot was quite frankly insulting.

“Adam? What’s happening? Talk to me! Adam?” Allison was frantic now and Adam winced.

“Don’t worry, hon, just a gnat buzzing around that I gotta deal with.”

Adam had no idea how the hell his earpiece had stayed in place but damn, he was going to have to buy the tech that had sold him the tiny device a drink someday soon.

Crusader smiled that creepy smile and gestured at the earpiece, “Who’ve you got in your ear? Bet it’s that little Firecracker you work with. You should invite her down. I’m sure I could entertain her!”

Adam tried to ignore the outraged cry in his ear, “Doubt you’re her type, Crusader. She prefers her men with brains and balls. Sorry to say, you’re losing out on two counts.” Allison squawked in laughter and Adam couldn’t hold back the smile. “So, what can I do for you, Crusader?”

“What can you do for me?” Crusader looked puzzled, “You should be begging me to spare you, trying to keep me from painting the side of this building with your brains.”

Adam managed to get his feet under him during Crusader’s moment of melodrama and took some of the strain off his arms. Shaking his arm, he managed to palm the switchblade he used to pick the lock earlier and flick it open.

“Okay, you got it,” Adam shrugged, “Please, oh great and wondrous Crusader, don’t shoot me with your wonderfully magnificent nine mil. Whatever would I do if you killed me? Think of my wife and minibus full of kids. Oh woe is me.”

“Wife?” Crusader frowned, and Adam knew he missed the sarcasm completely, “I thought you were, you know...” he wiggled his gun in some sort of archaic gesture that Adam took to mean gay. “I mean, you know, with the boys and the...”

“For the love of...” Adam cut him off, “Please don’t go any further. I’d like to still be able to use my dick when you’re done messing around here. What do you want?”

“I need your help with a job,” Crusader said, tapping his gun idly against his leg.

Adam blinked and replayed the words in his mind. Did Crusader really just say...?

“I’m sorry,” Adam frowned, “My ears must be ringing. Did you just say that you needed me to help you with a _job_? Did you really track me for five blocks, thrash my bike, shoot explosive rounds at me and knock me down a fucking ladder to ask me for my help _with a job_?”

Crusader’s cheeks flushed a little and he nodded, “Yeah. Needed to make sure you weren’t just the rep. It’s a big one. Retirement level, if you know what you mean? I figure between both of us, we’d get it done. Fifty-fifty split of the take. What do ya say?”

If Adam wasn’t hanging onto a ladder, he’d be banging his head against a solid fucking wall.

“What do I say?” Adam repeated the question, “What do I say? What do you think I say? No. Not a chance.”

Crusader pushed himself to his feet and sighed. Racking the slide on his gun, he shook his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, Silverfyre. But if you’re not going to take the job...”

Adam moved lightning quick, taking advantage of Crusader’s compulsion for shitty monologue to throw the knife. It spun end over end once, twice, three times, and then it hit, solid and sure and into the meat of Crusader’s right shoulder. Howling like a stuck pig, Crusader dropped his gun. Adam grabbed for it and caught it.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Three good shots, but Crusader was diving backwards out of the way. Adam watched him go and cursed. He tried to speed up the ladder after the other merc, but his leg had other ideas.

“Adam?” Allison’s voice was tentative.

“Yeah, honey, I’m still here.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and Adam swore he could actually hear her relax.

“What happened? Did you get Crusader?”

Adam shook his head, “No. He got away.” He heard her curse on the other end of the line, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up to him again. I’m more curious about the job he mentioned. Anything like that come across your desk?”

Allison barked a laugh, “A retirement job? You don’t think I’d know if there was something like that...” She trailed off.

Adam eased himself down to the ground, “Allie? You still there?”

“Um, yeah,” she answered, “I think I know which job he has his eye on. It’s new. Just posted today. Seems as if it’s locked to just a couple of fixers. Not sure how he got access to it, but yeah, it’s a big one,” she paused, “Shit, that’s... Wow... That’s definitely a retirement job. Nine figure payout.”

Adam braced a hand against his leg as he started to walk, “That’s a lot of cred. What do they want for that?”

“It’s a data run. Certain files from the server, trash everything and get them the information. Not sure I see how they got to the price tag...” Allison’s voice trailed off again, “Okay, there it is. Fuck me, that’s... You’ve heard of _Trojan_ , yeah?”

Adam had. Hell, the whole damn city had heard of _Trojan Technologies_. They’d been in the news a lot recently, something about a new type of cyberware. Honestly, he hadn’t been paying that much attention. Corporations came and went from San Diego every day. What did he care if some cyber company moved into the city? It wasn’t as if he needed a white collar job. He was happy where he was.

“Someone isn’t happy with them,” Allison explained, “But the profile that they have up for the job... Well, let’s just say that whoever picks up the job will earn every cred. They’ve got Nexus watching over the data. I don’t know of anyone who would even think of trying to break into that.”

“Are they talking about the new facility here in the city or are they talking about somewhere else?” Adam asked, mildly curious.

“The one in the city,” she answered, “Pulling up information now.” There was a tapping of keys and a squeak of laughter, “Oh babe, you’re going to want to hear this. _Trojan_ just painted a huge target on their backs. I swear everyone in the city is going to try to break in. Listen to this. _‘ _Trojan_ ’s VP of security who is overseeing this project and responsible for the overall security of new facility, was confident when reporters asked about the risk of corporate espionage. ‘Corporate drones, street scum, it’s all the same to me,’ Mister Dillinger said with characteristic confidence. ‘Many will try. None will succeed.’_ I mean, come on. If that’s not inviting any street merc in the city to try to break in…”

Adam frowned. Dillinger? Dillinger... Working for _Trojan_? No. It couldn’t be the same man. He ran a hand through his hair, scrubbing it before squeezing his temples. No. That bastard wouldn’t dare show his face in Adam's city.

“Dillinger?” he asked, his voice flattening out, hiding every trace of emotion, “Just Dillinger? No other name?”

“Um, let’s see. Oh yeah, Nathan Dillinger. He’s the VP of security there,” Allison answered.

Adam stumbled and grabbed onto a wall. He thumped it, once, twice and he swore he heard the crack of bone. He hadn’t heard that name for almost eight years and damnit, he had never expected to hear it again. But no, the no-good bastard had to come back, had to show his face again. Maybe he thought that enough time has passed, that no one would remember his name but Adam did. His name, his face, every detail. Adam remembered it all. He had prayed for this.

“Allison,” his voice was quiet, “Start pulling down everything you can about that job. Don’t let it get out that I’m interested yet. Usual aliases, you know what to do. But I want that job and all the information you can get me about _Trojan_.”

“Adam…” Allison started, “Adam, you can’t… What do you…? Fuck, Adam, this job is suicide. That’s why they’re offering a retirement paycheck. You know that as well as I do.”

Adam bowed his head and sighed, “I know. But… This is something I got to do, Allie. Trust me on this.”

“Always, Adam, you know that.”

Her voice was soft and he heard the hitch as the words caught in her throat and he hated that he was worrying her but there were some things that are about more than just a paycheck and this was one of them.

“I’ll catch you later, honey,” he promised and clicked the phone closed before she could say another word.

He rested for another moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to push back the swell of emotion. Allison was right. This job was suicide and going into it like this was only going to get him killed. _Trojan_ and their VP had already cost him enough. He wasn’t going to give them his life on a platter too. No, he needed to think this through. _Nebula_ was sitting guard over the data and as far as he knew, they were the industry leaders in securing servers, so he was going to need a data runner who could crack a _Nebula_ system, someone good, someone smart, someone able to think of their feet.

Flipping open his phone, he dialed the one data runner he trusted and thumbed the secure option on his phone. He listened as the ring tone changed from the standard tone to its secured counterpart. The line clicked and a bleary voice answered.

“Minx, it’s Silverfyre. I need a favor…”


	2. Chapter 2

"That should do it," Kris said, cracking his neck as he straightened up. He had pins and needles in his cheek, and his wrist and hand were numb where he’d been leaning on them. The plug from his interface deck disconnected with a click and slithered along the back of his hand, retracting into the recessed port on the side. He rubbed his eyes. The afterimages of circuits blurred and glowed against the back of his eyelids, the inevitable consequence of spending even a second completely immersed in the light show that was the internet.

"Damn, boy," Momma Jackson put her hands on her ample hips and looked down at him. "Already? You just plugged in five minutes ago."

"I keep a backdoor into all the federal databases," Kris shrugged off her comment. "Never know when you're going to need a new ID or meet someone's looking to be zeroed."

"And it's done? All done, I mean, I don't mean to doubt you, Juniper, but-"

"Records are there, background's clean and I dropped the new documentation over to Mint to print. He's got the paper okay?" Kris cracked a weary smile. "Cakewalk, Momma. I could do this in my sleep."

"You don't mind waiting?" Momma's voice was casual but Kris could see the glint in her eye. Momma's requests were anyone else's demands.

"No problem," Kris held up his hands. He was nowhere near stupid enough to antagonize Momma Jackson. It was never healthy to have the Zombies pissed at you, especially if you lived a block away from the heart of the cyber-gang's territory. Momma was a good ally but she was hell on wheels for anyone that dared to cross her. Besides, Kris knew his work and the job had been a snap. "You don't mind if I stay sitting? My brain's still a little scrambled."

Momma eyed him and Kris tried to look as inoffensive as possible. He was already mostly over the lag of dropping back into the meat world after fifteen minutes running the glittering, vivid 'Net but he knew how to milk the sympathy angle. Momma nodded, one sharp bob of her head and Kris relaxed.

 _Revenant's Repose_ wasn't a typical bar, even in the heart of the ganglands but Kris had long since gotten immune to the gory set-pieces and the dull red lighting. It wasn't like Momma was hurting for business; the whole of the Zombie gang dropped by at least once a week for a drink and a chat. Momma knew more about the city than most fixers did. Kris' regular table, the only one near the hard-line data ports, had a skull-shaped vase with a sprig of what might have been juniper in a previous life in the center of the table.

Momma liked it better when Kris did the work she wanted from him right here under her nose. He'd never really seen why she cared one way or the other. Kris lived less than a quarter of a mile away, just inside the Zombies' fiercely defended Gauntlet territory. There were a hundred Zombies in earshot of Momma every second of the day. All of them had killed for the gang and most of them would die for Momma without even flickering an eyelash over the whole thing.

Kris was tiny, could hit a target with a gun on the third try and the only cybernetics he had were the wires and processors in his brain and the gunmetal plugs at his wrists and in the base of his neck. The average Zombie enforcer would make three of him with enough left over to take down a SWAT team. Still, if it made Momma happy to have him here physically? Well, Kris could spare the five minute walk for the sake of being neighborly. Even jumped up on Catalyst or Venom, the gangers wouldn't touch him unless Momma said they could and Kris was safer on these streets than he'd be strolling down any of city streets at the heart of San Diego.

"Your landlord fix that gutter yet, sugar?" Momma asked, pouring two glasses of the home-distilled whiskey and pushing one across the table to him as she took the seat opposite.

"Not yet," Kris said ruefully. "I'll talk to him again when he comes around for the rent. Don't think he'll do anything about it, not until the roof falls in or something."

"Hmm," Momma's lips compressed into a disapproving line. "You leave it to me, honey. I'll handle him."

"I’d appreciate it," Kris said, sipping at his drink and feeling the sting of the raw alcohol on his lips. It burned the whole way down. Rumor said Momma's rotgut burned through your stomach and the Zombies chipped in to buy each new member a Kevlar-lined replacement.

"How's your work?" Momma topped up her glass.

"Fine," Kris said a little startled. "Port's job goes down by Tuesday and I finished the crack MAXX wanted on his new cyber processor just before you called. They'll both pay by the end of the week, I think."

"Good," Momma said as she drained her glass. "Man should get paid for his work. You let them take advantage of you."

"I got enough money to pay the bills," Kris shrugged. "What more does a guy need?"

"You should be out looking for a girl," Momma paused and grinned when Kris blushed. "Or a boy. Settle down, have a family if that's what you'd rather or go play in some of them shiny new clubs."

"I don't...I don't really see the point of clubs," Kris said honestly. "I'd rather just stay home. I've got a TV, a vid recorder and a whole pile of game-chips. I'm good."

Momma looked dubious and Kris braced himself for another round of well-intentioned chat but her phone buzzed and Momma picked up.

"Hello? Mint, sweetheart, good to hear from you." She paused, listening intently and Kris wished for the first time in months that he'd upgraded his ears back when he'd gotten his first cyber-implants. "Uh-huh. Yes. Is that so? Really? Well, all right then. Yes, I'll be sure to tell him. You take care now."

Kris waited. Momma hung up and turned to look at him with an unreadable look in her pure red eyes. Kris counted the oscillations of her targeting scopes by the tiny fluxes in intensity in the pinpoint red light in the center of her pupil.

"Mint says they're done," she said casually. "Says they're a damn good job too. Might have some work for you, if you want?"

"Thanks," Kris smiled, hands under the table so she couldn't see them tremble. "But no thanks. I don't mind faking IDs for the gang but it's not profitable. Not long term."

"If you're sure," Momma nodded again. "I won't keep you then."

"I'll be down tomorrow with the rent," Kris pulled the dataline connector loose and folded up his deck. He liked working with the Samson line of decks when he needed an external deck because they were big and durable, always a plus for a data-runner who worked on the shady side of legal. He'd picked up the DELUX-2000 which was a solid, easily modded system but it meant he was stuck lugging around the brick of a processor if he wanted anything like speed from a connection. Honestly Kris preferred the slim line headset that let him ride the wireless signals that covered the city but it barely had the memory to run his security suite, even at half-speed. Jobs like Momma's meant the Brick, however much Kris hated leaving his apartment. He shoved it into his bag and took another sip of whiskey. "Tell Mint to call if he needs anything tweaked."

"Don't you worry about the rent, honey," Momma was looking at him, eyes wrinkled at the corners in a small smile. "You're paid up for the quarter, I reckon. I'll tell Pod that and I'll make sure he fixes that gutter."

"You sure?" Kris hesitated. He'd been scrupulous about paying his dues as a non-blooded outsider for five years now and he didn't trust that Momma was willing to write off three grand in dues and the five seventy five in rent on top of that.

"Wouldn't say I was if I wasn't," Momma heaved herself up, servo-motors in her leg whirring loud enough that Kris could hear them individually. "You have a good day, sweetheart. I'll talk to you later."

"Have a good day," Kris pulled his bag onto his shoulder and waved as he crossed to the door. "Talk to you later, Momma!"

Outside, Kris took a moment to look around. He didn't leave his apartment much these days, except when Momma called. The streets looked the same, big hulks of burnt-out or half-ruined skyscrapers hemming in the world. They blocked out the horizon as far as the eye could see. The Gauntlet was the black heart of the inner city gangland, where property prices were counted in bullets and shells instead of cents and creds.

Even City Hall wasn't dumb enough to try rejuvenating the Gauntlet. They'd sent _Fortress_ in once, all the black and gold corp boys with their shiny cyberwear and their heavily armored AVs. That had been years ago. Kris remembered seeing it on the news, shot through telescopic lenses from miles away. The first big in-City gang-versus-corp war for a generation or more. If you knew where to look, you could still see the scars in the older buildings, the ones covered in layer after layer of gang tags from the ground up.

Five hellish days, more than three thousand confirmed dead and _Fortress_ had been forced to pull out. City Hall had been bankrupted by the compensation claims and the new Mayor, voted in that evening, quietly dropped the planned rejuvenation. Since then, the City had hemmed the Gauntlet in with new buildings and police/corp security stations on the very edges and left it, and the gangs who lived in it, to rot.

You didn't live in the Gauntlet if you could live anywhere else. Cale had told Kris that when they first came to San Diego, back when the gangs were something that happened on the TV screen and in badly written modern urban drama shows. Kris moved in five years ago. He still agreed with Cale.

Kris kept his eyes down and a hand on his bag as he walked. This part of the Gauntlet was perilously close to the RaZZorZ's turf and the Zombies on the streets tended to be twitchier and were a lot more likely to be jumped up on a cocktail of the latest chemical nightmares from their dealers. Kris was mostly safe from outside gangs and as long as he kept his head down, most of the Zombies would ignore him.

When a voice he didn't recognize called out from ahead of him, Kris ducked sideways, already thinking of the best diversion if this turned into a serious scuffle.

"Hey," the voice called again. "Hey, Juniper."

Kris froze, eyes darting up. There was a man - a very tall, armored man with two huge handguns riding the sway of his hips - coming down the street. He moved easily, the loose confidence of a guy who wasn't looking to start a fight but wouldn't hesitate to finish one. His eyes were hidden behind the polished mirror shades but Kris could guess that they were scanning and assessing every inch of the ground and tracking every movement.

He didn't know the guy, not his name at least, but Kris recognized the casual saunter and the cool, absolute confidence. The guy was a merc.

Kris risked a glance at the guy's street armor and nearly bolted right then and there. _Dorsett Gibson_ , fuck! How good did a merc have to be to buy his street clothes from the country’s leading personal armor designer? Good enough that he shouldn't even have heard the name Juniper, Kris thought as he backed up a step or two, shoulders curling forward defensively.

“Hey, can I talk you?” The merc pushed his glasses up to reveal pure blue eyes - Kris recognized the manufacturer’s mark to the left of the pupil. IsotopeTM, Christ, that meant forty grand just for the basic implant and those baby blues looked to be a custom job. “I just need a few minutes of your time.”

Kris backed up. He wasn’t wearing his goggles with the live GPS and city-mapping interface but he knew this block. Three alleys less than a hundred yards away. There was no sign of speed-ware in the way the merc moved but the good mercs, the guys who could afford _Dorsett Gibson_ armor and _Isotope_ optic implants, never gave away what they had upgraded until they needed to. Kris backed up more, clutching his bag so it wouldn’t throw him off balance.

“I just want to talk,” the merc said, closing the distance between them in three steps. Kris’ heart was racing now, hands trembling a little where they were fisted in the cheap canvas of the bag. “Five minutes of your time. Preferably somewhere a little more ...private.”

“I-I-no, thank you,” Kris stammered a little, trying to back up and keep both eyes on the merc at the same time.

“Hey, hey, Juniper!” This time, Kris recognized the voice calling him and felt relief like a ray of light in a dark hole. It might have been the first time in his life that anyone was glad to see BrainEater. BrainEater had been a Zombie since his Vyce habit got him kicked out of the army and even the anti-cyber cops in the Cyber-SWAT teams stepped carefully around him. Seven and half feet of genetically enhanced muscle with Zombie-red cyber-eyes and a wholly artificial left arm that looked like a bike engine crossed with a mincing machine, BrainEater looked every inch the borderline psychotic thug he was. “This guy bothering you?”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” the merc held out his hands, eyes narrowing as BrainEater scratched his nose with the razor sharp spur on the end of his cyberarm. “I just-”

“Just came swanning into our turf like you owned it,” BrainEater interrupted, lips curling back. “Where’s your tags, pretty-boy?”

“Like I said,” the merc was still holding his hands palm-up but lower, closer to the grips of the two guns in his belt. “I’m not-”

“Man asked you a question,” Kris nearly jumped out of his skin when BoneBreaker’s hissing voice interrupted. The Zombie was lean, bordering on the scrawny to a casual observer but judging by the serious expression on the merc’s face, he'd spotted the signs of a hardcore Boost user. BoneBreaker’s muscles had to be 80% synthetic by now and Kris knew for a fact that she had a pound-for-pound grip that rivaled a hydraulic press. “Rude not to answer, dontcha think?”

She was fingering the stock of a sawn-off shotgun that would have torn Kris’ arm off at the shoulder if he pulled the trigger and the merc took a single, careful step back, head tipped so he had line of sight on them both. BrainEater cackled, servos whining as the built-in weaponry in his arm began to deploy. The merc’s hands dropped to his guns and Kris ducked back around the corner and bolted.

Behind him, he could hear BrainEater cursing and the distinctive sound of high caliber handguns firing. Kris ran the rest of the way to his apartment and set every single lock before he slumped back against the door, bag still clutched to his chest and slid down to sit on the cracked vinyl floor. His pulse was still hammering through his whole body and he couldn’t breathe in more than short, desperate gasps. The only reason he didn’t simply black out entirely was the absolute, clawing dread that the merc or whoever hired him would break his door any second.

Kris had stimulants from coffee to the high-powered (and highly illegal) street stims hidden all over his apartment. He could do without sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ow,” Adam glared over his shoulder, “careful with the antibacterial spray. Despite all the Zombie’s attempts, that arm’s still attached.”

“Oh grow up, you big baby,” Allison rolled her eyes as she dabbed a swab over the wound, “It’s just a bullet graze. Anyone would think that you were about to lose an arm. What is it with you tough guys? You get shot, you get stabbed and not a sound, but someone comes near you with a medkit and it’s like you’re two years old and scraped your knee? Want me to get Carlos to come kiss your boo-boo better?”

“Don’t even joke, Allie. The guy’s left seventeen voicemails on my phone,” Adam turned to look at his arm, wincing as she pressed down on the reddened area. “Seventeen! And that’s just _today_. God, just think what he’d be like if I had actually gone out with him.”

“Okay,” Allison admitted, “That’s a little…”

Adam cut in smoothly, “Creepy? Needy? Clingy? If I was looking for a puppy, there are a million pet stores in the city. I mean, he’s cute, but he’s not that cute. I’m not sure anyone is hot enough for that.”

Allison dumped the cotton swab in the bin and dug through her first aid kit for the RapidHeal spray. Two quick squirts and she taped a bandage over the wound. Adam tapped down the edges of the tape, making sure that they’d stay in place as he pulled back on his t-shirt. Pulling off her gloves, Allison tossed them in the bin and started cleaning the table, slotting the container of RapidHeal back into its place. Adam took the first aid box from her and stowed it back under the desk. Allison moved to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a half-full bottle of vodka and poured two healthy glasses.

“So, you going to tell me what happened out there?” Allison asked as she sat down in her chair, throwing her feet up on the table.

Adam pulled on his shirt, careful of the bandage, “Lucky shot, I guess.”

“Someone got a lucky shot on you? Now this I have to hear,” she grinned.

Getting hit twice in a week was a bad sign, especially for someone who spent as much time on the streets as he did, but for both of the injuries to happen while he was between jobs? It was embarrassing enough that Allison wasn’t going to stop teasing him anytime soon. It was the price he paid for dropping into the club to have her treat him. It was probably best in the long run to just swallow his pride and get it over with. That way he could take the jokes and start back on his search.

“I may have paid a visit down to Zombie turf to see if I could spot the data runner that Minx mentioned,” he shrugged, “The file you put together for me said he spent time down there. I thought I’d scope the place out, see if I could spot him. I didn’t expect him to have the entire damned gang ready to step up and protect him.” He turned to look at Allison, “How’d you miss the gang connection with the Zombies? I’m not sure if he’s fully blooded or family or what but as soon as I started talking to him his heavies stepped out and opened up. Soon as they started, a couple of others showed up. I guess they were itching for a fight or something. Next thing I knew, there were a lot of bullets and all of them heading in my direction. I ran for the bike and got my ass outta there.”

Allison’s mouth was hanging open, “You just sauntered into Zombie territory? Just decided to take a wander through the Gauntlet?” She reached out and thumped him, right on the injured arm, “What the hell were you thinking? No wonder you got shot. Idiot!”

“Easy, girl,” Adam flinched as she swung for him again, “I just thought…”

“No, you didn’t _think_!” Allison cursed, slipping into Spanish.

Adam knew a little Spanish, mostly the curses, but the rapid fire pace was beyond him.

“I said to wait, didn’t I? I said to wait until I had a little more information. You knew that Minx was planning calling tonight to give me more info on him but you had to go wandering in, didn’t you?” she downed her drink and poured herself another, “No wonder you got shot. You’re lucky you weren’t killed, Adam.”

He heard the tremble in her voice and knew that behind the anger was worry. He forgot it at times but behind the shrewd business woman and ball-busting bitch fixer was a nineteen year old girl scared of losing a second brother. She wasn’t his sister by birth but that had never mattered to either of them. She was the closest thing he had to family left in the world and he hated seeing fear in her eyes.

Taking the glass from her hand, he pulled her to her feet and into a hug. She fought against him for a second and then relaxed a little, hugging him back and burying her face into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Allie,” he whispered the words just loud enough for her to hear, “You’re right. I should have waited. I just thought that if I explained the job, the payoff, that we’d be able to start planning. You know, in, out, pick up a data runner and done by the weekend.”

“Yeah, well… You should be!” Allison looked up at him, sniffing back the tears, “I’m too young to have grey hair, you know.”

Adam smirked, “How could you tell? You’ve been dying your hair since you were sixteen.”

Allison rolled her eyes, “Uh huh, and you’re so different. Strawberry blond, weren’t you? You know, before you upgraded.”

“Meow,” Adam laughed, “And the cat’s got her claws back.”

“Yeah, well,” Allison sighed and smiled, “You pull another foolish stunt like that again, and this kitty is going to find a target. You got that mister?”

“Loud and clear,” Adam pulled her close again before releasing her and letting her sit down. He perched on the edge of the table and picked up the glass of vodka she’d poured out.

Allison sat back in her chair and looked at him, chewing her lower lip. He could tell she was itching to ask him a question but he had no idea what and probably wouldn’t until she finally put it into words. He took a sip of the vodka – Russian import, the good stuff – and savoured the taste. Finally, she pushed herself up and rested her arms on the table.

“Okay, I get why you went into Zombie territory and alright I don’t agree with it, but I understand. Kinda. But how did you get shot? I know you. You shoot first. Usually people don’t get the drop on you. So what happened?”

It was a good question and one that Adam didn’t really want to answer. But this was Allison and not answering wasn’t an option.

“Until I know what the connection between Juniper and the Zombies is…” he paused, trying to work out how to phrase his answer, “Until I know how close Juniper is to the Zombies, I can’t shoot them. Last thing we need is to lose all chance of hiring him because I shot his kin. You know as well as I do that there was only one runner that Minx thought could possibly crack a Nexus system.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense. Not sure I could have done that,” Allison shook her head. “I mean, all those guys firing at you. Makes me glad that all I gotta do is hang out here and make phone calls.”

“That’s not all you do and you know it!” Adam looked down at her.

“Yeah, sure,” Allison finished her drink and pushed the glass away. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself to her feet, “And speaking of phone calls, I gotta call one of the suppliers and shout at him. Guy’s been screwing up the orders for the last week. I’m critically low on rum and Mardi Gras is just around the corner. You have the choice of tending bar, running security or picking up a set. Don’t much care which you do, honey, but you gotta get outta my office!” she smiled to take the sting out of the words.

“You’ll let me know when Minx calls?” he asked.

“As soon as I pick up the phone, hon,” she smiled, “Now scoot!”

Adam found himself herded out of the office and into the maze of corridors that was the staff area of the club. Fixing his shirt and hair, he made his way out to the front of the club and smiled at the staff he passed. Pushing open the door, he was assaulted by a wall of music and chatter. Letting the door slip closed behind him, he looked around the club. It was bustling already which meant that later it’d be packed to the rafters. Seeing him on the floor, some of the bar staff straightened up and tried to look busy and the security guards stood just a little straighter. The benefits of having his name on the paperwork, he guessed. Grabbing a seat at the bar, he ordered a fruity cocktail and called Cari, one of the older bar staff, over.

“Heya, any problems I need to know about?” he asked as soon as Cari leaned in.

His audio-processors filtered out the background noise, the music, the conversation so he could hear what she was saying without having the conversation loud enough for the whole bar to listen in.

“We’re one down tonight. Carlos has decided that he simply can’t get out of bed. Broken heart, dontcha know?” Cari rolled her eyes and smirked, “Allison sent you out here to help? Please tell me you’re mine for the night!”

Adam smirked, “Oh baby, you know it! You need the help?”

“Not right now, but later, yeah, we’ll need a couple of extra hands. Got a new band doing an album launch around midnight. Bound to be a crowd,” she shrugged, “You know how it gets.”

“Got a call I gotta take later, but other than that, I’m in your capable hands,” Adam took a long drink and finished the cocktail.

She smiled widely and thumbed over her shoulder, “Aprons are in the back. You sure you remember the drill, boss?”

Adam grinned, “Should do. Give ‘em what they want ‘til they can’t handle any more and charge ‘em double if they’re mean.”

He’d come up with the policy shortly after they’d opened. A little friendly reminder that the staff didn’t have to put up with entitled assholes, and hitting the offenders in the pocket drove the point home faster than having them tossed by security. This was a runner club, not too far from the edge of the Gauntlet. People came here to discuss business and unwind and work off the adrenaline highs. They lived for money, for the hard-won creds that fixers paid them in. Turfing them would just give the club a bad reputation, but double charging them made them think twice about what exactly they said to the staff. The bartender was God around here and after a couple of hundred creds disappeared just because you asked the bartender how much they charged for a night between the sheets, your attitude improved dramatically fast. That didn’t mean that security wouldn’t toss your ass, they would and wouldn’t think twice about it if they saw something going down that wasn’t legit. _Idolize_ wasn’t cheap but the liquor was real and the beer was imported. No drugs. No violence. Just good music and good times. There weren’t many places like it in the city, and Allison worked hard to keep it that way.

Adam slipped behind the bar and grabbed an apron, tying it around his waist as he nodded to one of the regulars and took his first order. There was something about the rhythm of the bar that sucked you in. Time disappeared as you worked, lost in the back and forth between the bar and the drink racks.

It must have been two hours later when he noticed Allison at the side of the bar, gesturing him over. He called over another bartender and gave him the rest of the order. The boy nodded once and started filling the drinks while Adam dodged around to the other side of the bar.

“Minx on the phone?” Adam asked as he wiped off his hands.

“Not quite. Come back when you got a moment?”

Adam nodded, frowning a little, “Not a problem, hon. Let me just empty the tips into the jar and hang up the apron and I’ll be right there.”

Allison was gone when he was done and he slipped out the back, catching Terri’s eye on the way out. She smiled at him and moved to cover the area that he’d been serving. Adam pushed open the door to back of house and made his way down to Allison’s office, fixing his hair as he went.

He pushed open the door and stopped dead in the doorway. Sitting in Allison’s padded chair was Minx. Hurrying in, he closed the door behind him and just stood there staring at their guest. It was a thump from Allison that got him moving again and he was across the room and hugging Minx before she could blink.

“Minx, darling, it’s great to see you here? How come you’re in the city? Wow,” Adam’s words tripped out, genuine joy in his voice.

She didn’t speak for a long minute and Adam took advantage of the silence to hug her, trying hard to ignore the fact that she was a damned sight thinner now than she had been the last time he saw her. He could practically count her ribs, even though the layers of clothing that she wore. There was a tremble running through her body that just didn’t seem natural, worse than he’d felt before and Adam was worried. He pulled back, giving her breathing space as he hunkered down in front of her.

“I had a hospital appointment in the city. Thought I’d drop in and see my favourite boy in person,” her voice was slow, each word deliberate and it seemed to take so much effort to force the words out.

She’d gotten worse, a lot worse, since he’d seen her last, and better in a way. The burns and surgery scars on her temple and back into the hairline had faded from an angry red to pink, still clearly visible against her dark skin but healed over now. Her left eye had also healed, but the brown had faded to a dull white. She could see through it, he knew that, but it looked odd against the dark brown of its mate. Her cheekbones were sharp enough that Adam wasn’t entirely sure how they weren’t cutting through her skin. And it was the same for everything else. She was wasted, worn away, just a fraction of her former self but still Adam could see the woman she had been shining through, bright from his memories.

“Well, you know we’re always glad to see you,” Adam reassured her, “You should have called, I would have ordered takeout or something. You look good.”

“Liar,” she smiled, or tried to, “I look like crap. I know. Doctor told me that today. And when a doctor tells you that, you know you’re done for.”

“Nonsense,” Adam huffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t a woman in the place can hold a candle to you, honey. What you been up to? You been taking care of yourself?”

“Nope,” Minx laughed, but it turned into coughing and when she lifted her hand to her mouth, Adam could see the muscle tremors running through her arm.

As soon as she saw him looking, she dropped it back to her lap, hiding it in the sleeve of her overly large cardigan. Adam reached out and took her hand in his and held it firmly. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes and looked away again. Adam ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

Minx had been his data runner for years, since before he hit the big time and started pulling in the large contracts and he had trusted her implicitly. He did the physical runs while she plugged herself into the ‘Net and watched his back. She'd never had to get any closer than that, never had to run a job in the meat world until they’d pulled a data mining contract on a small tech company. It was a closed system, with no ports to the outside and because of that, there was no way in unless you managed to get into the building itself. He’d wanted to hire a combat runner, someone who could hack and shoot but Minx had insisted that she was good for the job. She’d bugged him about it for two days solid and in the end he’d agreed to take her in on the understanding that he would pull the mission if anything went wrong.

Everything had seemed to go well. They’d made their way in with no problems, put down the security guards and found the server room with only minimal fuss. Adam had watched the door while Minx worked her magic and it had all been going well until Minx had started convulsing on the floor. Adam had done the only thing he could and disconnected her from the mainframe, pulling the plugs out of the machinery even though he knew that it could dump her straight into cybershock. Better alive and a little fritzed than dead. She’d been fine when she’d come round, her usual lively vivacious self and yeah, they’d celebrated that night. Any job you could walk away from, and all that…

But later, later they’d had problems. Minx hadn’t woken up before him the next morning and that was unusual. Usually when they had a night like this, Minx would be awake and at his kitchen table, plugged into her deck before he even started trying to drag his carcass out of bed, but not that morning. And when Adam went in to wake her, he’d found her in the spare bed, cold and bleeding from her interface plugs. He hadn’t hesitated to call in a doctor but it was too late to reverse the damage.

Docs said that it had been a fire-hound virus uploaded into her cerebral cyber-cortex. Adam hadn’t understood most of it, hadn’t been fully paying attention really, but the result was clear enough. They’d had to remove her plugs and most of her neural network. She’d been devastated by that and Adam had blamed himself.

He still did.

Sitting here, seeing her fading away? Well, it didn’t help anyone to feel that guilty. So he chose to move past it, to the reason that she was here.

“So, Allie tells me that you’re our go-to-gal on all things Juniper,” Adam says, still holding her hand. “You manage to find out anything about him?”

“Not much,” she starts, “He’s paranoid, even for a data runner. Keeps everything locked down tight. I did a little sniffing around…”

Adam’s brows furrow. She shouldn’t be hooking up to the ‘net, not in her condition.

“Don’t look at me like that, babes,” she reached up and ran a hand over her cheek, “I ain’t dead yet and damned if I’m gonna do it out here. You know well as I do that if I go, it’s going to be hooked up to my deck and looking at the pretty, pretty lights of the ‘net. And that’s an end to it, you hear me?”

“Did you tell your doctor about the attacks?” Adam asked, “The convulsions? Did you tell him that they’re still happening?”

Minx fixed him with a glare, “You gonna let me finish telling you about Juniper or you gonna keep interrupting me, mister?”

Adam held his hands up in surrender, glancing over at Allison. Allison shook her head just enough for Adam to see. She knew that pushing Minx on this was useless. She’d do her own thing irrespective of what Adam said or did.

“So like I was saying,” Minx continued, “Juniper is not exactly the caring, sharing sort when it comes to personal information. Not that any runner is, but usually there are clues. Not the case with Juniper. I can’t even pin down which jobs he’s had a hand in. But his rep is solid. Only reason I know he can do what you need is that I’ve seen some of the advice that he’s thrown in the direction of other runners. He knows the system inside out but I have no idea how.” Her voice caught in her throat and Allison pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it for her, handing it over. Minx took a drink from the bottle and handed it back before continuing, “I’d know if he cracked a Nexus before, but either way, boy codes like he was born plugged straight into the ‘net. No one in the city can match him.”

“Okay,” Adam smiled, “Then he’s definitely the one.”

“Just one problem,” Minx looked from Allison to Adam, “He’s retired. Remote work only. No onsite work. And if the rumours are right… He doesn’t like mercs. So it looks like you’re out of luck, precious.”

Adam settled back on his heels and stared into middle distance, “You just leave that to me, princess. I’ll get him onside. Trust me!”


	4. Chapter 4

Kris finally fell asleep sometime that morning to the sounds of the Zombies celebrating another successful defence of their turf with a full-blown brawl with the RaZZorZ. Gunshots and screaming weren’t a conventional lullaby but Kris relaxed all the same. There wasn't a merc in the city stupid enough to stick their nose into a full-blown gang fight.

He fell asleep at the kitchen table, the walls shaking and the sounds of guns and drugged-up gangers filling the whole apartment. He didn't wake until dawn, the grubby grey light signalling the start of the Gauntlet's short 'night-time' when the gangers slept off the night before. Kris was used to having the whole turf to himself until noon at the earliest.

Normally he would go pick up groceries or a coffee but today, Kris dropped a cred chip off at Momma's to pay for a round for BrainEater and the rest of them and went straight back home. He needed to know a little more about that merc and why he was looking for a retired data-runner with a second rate rep.

Kris grabbed his deck and a cup of coffee and went in to take a seat on the couch. Jacking into the Net was a rush like nothing Kris had ever experienced in the world of meat and bone. It was like falling into a tunnel in the middle of his mind, the flash and sparkle of circuitry blurring past and the neon bright rush of the datastream rose up around him.

There were six-seven seconds of overload, nothing between him and the raw data before Kris’ ikon booted. It was a fairly standard ikon, a simplified version of Kris’ meat body, a baggy hoody with stylized wings modelled from his tattoos drawn in intricate circuits on the back. His plugs glowed as hot points under the pixelated skin but Kris hadn’t bothered adding any more detail. Juniper was a nuts-and-bolts datarunner, anything too complicated would be out of character.

Kris opened his eyes and looked around. The bubble of his home system insulated him from the ‘Net proper but he could see the great sea of light streaming past, almost close enough to touch.

“Boss!” Kris was nearly ploughed down under Virago’s overenthusiastic leaping hug. “You’re back!”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Kris patted her arms and the security program grudgingly loosened her embrace just enough to let him turn to face her. Virago was tiny but Kris could feel the hum of her processing power.

“Hey, Boss!” Chronos thumped him affectionately on the shoulder and Kris winced a little. Chronos of all three of the sub-programs looked most like the person he’d been based on and he’d kept Cale’s ...physical approach to affection.

“New job?” Nox was leaning against the transparent barrier in a casual slouch that belied the eager gleam in his eyes.

“Kinda,” Kris said, slipping out of Virago’s hug. “I need to know about the merc that crashed the turf last night.”

There was a rumble and a free-floating window opened, showing the street view outside Kris’ apartment. Kris had installed the cameras in the first week of moving in and they were normally never used but the security suite kept them monitored all the same. Kris watched the replay of the previous night’s fight as the file scrolled back.

“There,” Kris said and the frames slowed and another trio of windows opened with the alternate angles. “That’s him. Go find what you can about him.”

There was no clear shot of the guy but the multiple angles produced a pretty accurate composite. Nox and Virago stripped copies off the main window and passed through the barrier, blending seamlessly into the flowing data streams and vanishing. Chronos folded his arms and waited as Kris shut down the windows and lowered the firewall.

“And what are we doing?”

“I want to know who set him looking for Juniper,” Kris said. “I need to know what he wants.”

“Could have been looking for a cheap data-run,” Chronos pointed out. “Juniper’s the bargain basement, isn’t he?”

“I want to know if there are any jobs out there that I should know about,” Kris said, bringing up the private menu of his ikon.

“`Variable set{ status_read = ‘hidden’};  
Variable set{ WHOAMI_tag = ‘User#1’};`”

The colours of his ikon dimmed and greyed out and Chronos faded into a second shadow trailing behind him as Kris wove through the superhighway to the data-runner forums. They were filled with painfully bright and gaudy ikons, laughing and chattering about the biz, jobs taken and data-fortresses hacked.

It didn’t take long for Kris to find the rumour he wanted. The locked boards were full of speculation. _Nebula_ was the data-runner bogeyman, the only corp with a solid reputation for finding and eliminating data-runners who took illegal work. Any job involving a _Nebula_ system was charged at three times the price and only a handful of fixers would even try to negotiate a job these days.

The conversation was dominated by Crash-Cool, a runner with an angular ikon with system monitors incorporated into his design. “Yeah, they can offer all the money they want, it’s not like anyone’s going to collect. No-one’s ever cracked a _Vortex_.”

“You know what we need,” an ikon modelled on Gypsy Rose Lee with the tag 'Zero-Acid' said. “ _DEx_ could crack it. We need to bring _DEx_ back.”

“ _DEx_ are no more,” Crash-Cool rolled his eyes. “They disappeared, vanished into the ether...-net.”

The whole sub-forum cracked up and Kris rolled his eyes. That joke had been old five minutes after _DEx_ disbanded; five years later, it could be classed as prehistoric. He slipped in and out of some of the most serious forums but the consensus seemed to be the same. There were a few hotshots talking about taking the job but the serious runners were backing off and watching with interest.

Kris slipped out of the forums, resetting the privacy variables on his ikon as he backtracked towards the more mainstream sites. Chronos reloaded, filling back out. The circuit lines that showed his status lights flared briefly and he looked over his shoulder.

“Boss? We’ve got company,” Kris looked back but the flickering patterns of the data-stream were shifting too fast for him to spot anything out of the ordinary. Spotting an anomaly was a security program’s function so Kris nodded to Chronos and brought up the private menu again.

` set boot-time = 0000000.1;  
run draghos.exe;`

As he and Chronos cornered sharply, ducking into the sub-connection network underneath the main Net, Draghos came online with a roar, wings unfolded and beating strongly. There was a flash and a static burst and the main security program plunged into the sub-connect behind them, a small spidery program secured in his claws.

“What the hell?” Chronos stepped between Kris and the captive program, arms spread defensively.

A dialog box popped up to Draghos’ left. “`SCAN CONFIRMS PROGRAM AS QUIK-SEARCH PROGRAM DESIGNED ON A USER BUILT ALGORITHM. PARAMETER SET AS 'data_runner, JUNIPER. CONFIRMED AS TRACKING USER.`"

“It’s a search program,” Kris looked at the thrashing program with its many spindly limbs and frowned. “Someone’s looking for Juniper on the Net? Draghos, secure that program.”

“`CONFIRMED`” The dialog box refreshed.

Kris wasn’t expecting this, hasn’t been more than a ghost passing through the streams in longer than he likes to think about but old habits never die. He tapped a code into his private menu and his personal firewall cracked into place around them. It was a fragile, lightweight dome, closer to a camouflage net than a shield but it was strong enough to keep a search program caged and here in the subnet, even Root's bizarre search algorithms couldn’t have found them. Kris would give a lot to be able to call on Root or SYS but he hadn't spoken to either data-runner for more than five years.

“Give it here,” Draghos dropped the spindly little program into his hands and coiled protectively around, his wings bunched under the crackling skin of the firewall. Kris threaded his fingers into the code, the steady pulse of power thrummed like a heartbeat against his ikon’s skin and he gently pulled his hands apart.

The search program opened up like a cat’s cradle, threads and lines of code twinkling and glittering as they stretched out. The central code-kernel, the program’s heart, looked like a crystal lattice; intricate and brilliant but so fragile. Kris counted the pulses of light in the very centre, his decode-programs keeping tally in a corner of his vision while Chronos and Draghos peered at the vivisected program with mild curiosity.

It freaked Kris out a little, their detached interest in how other programs were wired but programs weren’t human and they rarely reacted like the humans they looked like. He was more or less used to it but it had been a long time since they’d watched him crack another program.

“Got an IP address,” he said thoughtfully. “1024 bit encryption, hexcoded...your programmer knows what they’re doing.”

The search program flexed its limbs and Draghos rumbled warningly. He had never allowed Kris to update his I/O functions to the ever-changing standards but he’d never had a problem getting his point across.

“Got to be a runner,” Kris says more to himself than any of the programs. “A good one would follow their program...Are we alone down here?”

Draghos rumbled again and Chronos nodded. “Just you, us and our friend the spider, Boss. Don’t think anyone saw us duck in here, even.”

“That’s weird,” Kris tangled the almost invisible threads of data around his fingers and tugged them loose. The program’s light flickered and dimmed and it went slack in his hands. “The program isn’t signed. We need to run a backtrace.”

He separated out the recovered data, deleting himself and the profile of his security suite from the strands before letting the data knit back together and weaving it back into the program’s code. The kernel glowed and he pulled his hands back, letting it reboot. The firewall crackled a little as he rolled the program back out through it and up into the main data-stream. With the search parameters deleted, the program would return to the runner who sent it looking and with Chronos and Draghos watching like hounds straining at the ends of their leashes, Kris would only be a step behind.

“There he goes,” Kris was surprised again by how fast the search program took off. It was a beautifully streamlined piece of code, optimized to hell and if he hadn’t had Draghos on hand, it might have outrun them.

Draghos had been created for the Net, from his earliest clumsily-grouped functions and with the benefit of the deck’s expanded memory, Kris could give him all the system resources he needed to _fly_. His talons were cool and solid against Kris’ side and Chronos’ eyes shifted to mirror the serpentine pupils of his master program as the search program skittered away through the streams. Draghos arrowed through the racing streams, running fast and invisible as Kris tracked the ‘Net IPs racing past.

Kris wasn’t surprised when the program disappeared into a semi-private network that mapped to a block not too far from the edges of the ganglands. Freaked as hell, yes: surprised, no. At least it wasn't a coporate shell site and Kris felt himself relax a little. He was surprised to find Nox and Virago coming out of a deceptively simple data-fortress just beside the access point.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We found the merc,” Nox bounced on his toes, so childishly proud of himself that the glow through his circuits was threatening to negate his ‘hide’ function entirely.

“Here?” Kris blinked, mind racing. He hadn’t clocked the merc as a runner, too assured and too physically aware of his surroundings. A runner capable of writing a program like that was either dedicated or a genius. “He’s a runner?”

“No,” Virago shook her head vigorously. Like the rest of the suite, she had a healthy contempt for non-programmers that Kris had never successfully trained out. “He’s a merc. Well, and a singer but he doesn’t use the Net. He just shoots things and sings.”

“Get a name?” Kris asked.

“Silverfyre,” Nox brought up a display listing everything Silverfyre had been linked with in the last five years. Nothing overtly corporate, at least not that Kris could see but he saved a copy to ask Drew about later all the same. “He’s got a good reputation, picks his own jobs and comes with a price tag. He had a data-runner for several years until she was iced.”

Kris winced. Intrusion-countermeasures, known to every Net-dweller as ‘ICE’, were the corporate defence against curious or malicious hackers and varied from the inconvenient to the deadly. “Get a name for her?”

“Minx,” Virago brought up her own display, showing a stylized panther as the ikon. “Ice was from _Lotus Industries_ , the prototype Hunt-Killer.”

“Damn,” Kris thumped his fist against his leg. “I thought we’d sunk that project.”

“Some of the code has survived,” Nox shrugged.

“Tag it,” Kris said. “I want to know who’s got that program.”

“Logged,” the security programs chorused.

The access point chimed and Draghos hissed. His dialog box flashed up, showing a countdown and a confirmed log-in. Kris tapped the buttons to bring up the firewall and send Draghos back into standby. The security programs crowded in behind him, pressed close enough that he could feel the charge through their circuits as the access point lit up.

The hazy outline of a data-runner’s ikon appeared. Starting with a blank template and building up detail and complexity pixel by pixel. Kris nodded to Nox and Chronos and they moved silently to flank the access point. Virago edged protectively in front of him as they waited. It took 36 milliseconds for the ikon to come online. The connection was either cripplingly slow, raising the question of why any runner that could write a program like that would bother trying to use that connection or it meant that the runner wasn’t plugging in.

Plugs were risky, Kris had signed more waivers for his plugs than the guy in the next bed had signed for his experimental cyber-liver but in the high-speed world of data-running, being that one nanosecond faster could mean the difference between life and death. There was no comparison between the speed of the crude VR rigs and a proper set of plugs and no runner worth the name would dream of running without the edge that only plugs gave.

Kris had never heard of a serious runner that used the clunky VR interface and he was curious despite himself about this one. He recognised the encryption, 1024 bit and hexcoded as the ikon’s private functions booted. This had to be the runner who was looking for him, coming to see what had happened to their program.

The ikon came to life, the status lights lighting up underneath the glossy black skin and Kris snapped his fingers.

The firewall expanded, tripling its size in a single clock cycle. Nox went for the access point, status lights flaring red. The runner - Minx, Kris recognised with a dull sense of despair - spun around and Chronos knocked her to the floor. Kris was already moving as Chronos’ shielding flared in overlapping hexagons under her counter-attack. Virago crashed into them both, her lockout functions overwriting Minx’ private menu.

It was over just as easily as that. Three milliseconds and Kris pulled up the access point’s security settings, flagging it as off-line and redirecting traffic to the nearest backup points. Nox remained on guard, status lights pulsing a warning amber/red as he watched for backup or curious runners.

“Minx, I assume?” Kris asked, settling on his haunches beside her.

“Juniper?” Minx’s ikon refreshed slowly so her changing expression lagged behind her words. She must have been properly fragged by the ICE if this was the best even a VR interface could give her.

“You tell me,” Kris shrugged. “You’re the one who’s looking.”

“You are Juniper,” Minx was craning her neck to look at Chronos and Kris waved Virago back. "I recognise those wings."

Virago stayed close, watching Minx through narrowed eyes with her status lights pulsing in time with Nox and Chronos. Minx’s expression shifted to astonishment as she turned to look at Virago. All three security programs were slick, densely coded and their AIs were nuanced enough that other runners had mistaken them for runner-ikons in the past.

“Why are you looking for me?” Kris asked bluntly as Chronos reluctantly backed up enough to let Minx up. It took a few seconds for her to react but her ikon rose in a rippling movement, looming up over him.

“My boy, he was looking for the best data-runner.”

“Why?”

“You ain’t that stupid,” Minx’s raspy chuckle made Kris’ shoulders twitch. “Whole damn ‘Net’s buzzing about the _Nebula_ job.”

“No-one’s ever beaten a _Nebula_ system,” Kris said bitterly.

“Yet,” Minx glided across the space between them. “First rule of the ‘Net: if they can build it, we can crack it.”

“Five years and it hasn’t been cracked yet,” Kris pointed out. “There’s a hundred runners out there that might try.”

“But only one I’ve seen who can pull it off,” Minx finished. “You already guessed that I gave him your name.”

“I’m retired,” Kris spat, shoulders hunched up against her knowing stare.

“Maybe now you are,” Minx purred. “But I was in the chat that night that Acid Overdrive hit that ice over in _Texas Holdings_. Been a few years since, so I’m guessing you don’t remember, and there were a lot of guys there. Some of the best and brightest. I remember that. Know what else I remember?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell us,” Virago growled and Minx’s eyes flicked to her and her expression shifted a second late to awe before she looked back at Kris.

“I remember that there was only one guy there who called it right,” Kris was racking his brains, trying his damnedest to remember the chat she was talking about. He’d given up chatrooms five years ago but it had been a slow detox, dwindling over nearly eighteen months. “Just one.”

“You seriously recommended me to your old buddy on the basis of a chatroom encounter years ago?” Kris folded his arms.

“No, I recommended he look you up because I thought you might be good enough.”

“Thought?” Chronos rumbled. “Changed your mind.”

“I thought you were good enough,” Minx nodded, not taking her eyes off Kris. “Now? I know you’re better.”

“I think you should tell Silverfyre,” Kris recalled all three of his security programs with a flick of his fingers. “That I said thanks, but no thanks. I’m retired and I never worked with mercs even when I wasn’t retired.”

He reset the access point and overloaded the firewall with a temporary surge. The firewall flared, filling the area with static and Kris bolted, security programs closing in tight around him.

`Variable set{ status_read = ‘hidden’};  
Variable set{ WHOAMI_tag = ‘User#1’};  
CACHE set_size[0];`

His ikon greyed out, the security programs fading into shadows racing along behind him and Kris routed through a dozen switches, the University hub and a randomised proxy server that scrambled his IP address using defunct CIA algorithms. Only then did Kris backtrack to his own access point.

“Wipe our trail,” Kris ordered as he brought up the main system’s firewall and his access point disappeared from the Net. “Make sure no-one finds us.”

“On it,” Nox reconfigured, glossy black armour covering the circuitry designs and leaving only his red status light glowing over his solar plexus.

“You two assist,” Kris said, waving Virago and Chronos after him. They looked at each other then nodded reluctantly and followed Nox back out. Kris rubbed his face and sighed heavily. God, what a fucking mess.

He reached for the VOIP shortcut and chose ‘Narnian Embassy’ from the list of possible numbers before punching in Drew’s number. The line rang thirteen times before Drew’s sleepy voice came echoing through the SAMSON’s cheap audio card.

“‘lo? Who the fu’k is this?”

“Drew,” Kris said, smiling a little despite himself. “Listen, I need you to check someone out for me. Merc going by the name ‘Silverfyre’. Spelt with a ‘y’.”


	5. Chapter 5

Crusader’s third cup of coffee was sitting in front of him, growing colder with every passing minute, untouched since the pretty blonde waitress put it down in front of him, setting it down on the remains of a bran muffin dissected and spread across the surface of the small table. The baristas were glaring at him, whispering behind their hands to each other, but Crusader didn’t care. If they made a move, he’d deal with them but for now, his attention was focussed on the building across the street as he watched people going about their daily affairs, mentally comparing each of them to a description he’d gotten from a couple of 'helpful' gangers.

Checking his chronometer, he cursed. It was getting late and he couldn’t stay here all night. The gang that owned this section of the Gauntlet would be awake soon and he needed to be out of here before they found his little presents left lying carefully unwrapped in the back of an alley, gutted, filleted and waiting for someone to wander by. It wasn’t his fault that the little street rats had refused his first offer or that he’d had to resort to a more violent negotiation method. Who the hell didn’t accept money for information anyway? What sort of backwards shithole was this place that it didn’t follow the rules that the rest of the city lived by?

He hated the Gauntlet. It was just a waste of space that could have been filled with potential customers instead of this lawless scum that didn’t have two credchips to rub together. They should have hired him for that extermination order a couple of years ago. He’d have done it for free. Mass slaughter instead of this piecemeal bullshit that he had to resort to. Hell yeah! Well, okay, maybe he wouldn’t have said no to the pay check but it would have been a bonus.

Hell, he wouldn’t be down here at all if it wasn’t for that no-good bastard Silverfyre anyway. Word on the street was buzzing with rumours of a showdown between the Zombies and Silverfyre. No specifics on what had caused it or how many Silverfyre had dropped, but he knew Silverfyre well enough to know that he had to have a reason to venture this deep into Zombie territory. The guy hated the Gauntlet every bit as much as he did and it had to be something huge to drag him into a full blown confrontation with these idiots. Not a one of them could shoot straight but with a missile launcher, getting the right general area was enough to do some serious damage.

So, he’d dragged his ass down into the middle of the damned Gauntlet on a hunch and a whisper to follow a lead for the biggest job of his life and damned if he had the patience to sit around and wait for some piece of crap data runner to crawl outta his deck long enough to have a conversation. Jumper, Junebug, some J word that probably meant something to the geeks and freaks of the net and sweet fuck all to anyone else. The guy had best be better than golden to be worth the hassle. Who knew, if things went south, maybe he could push the blame onto the runner, say he was just executing a contract, something like that? Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it might just work. At least he’d get something outta this.

He waited another couple of minutes before grabbing his stuff and pushing himself to his feet. He took one last look at the apartment block opposite and heaven of heavens he saw the guy he was looking for. Brown hair, just past twenty years old and walking around like he was scared of his shadow. He looked a damned sight shorter than his supposed height of 5’ 8”, hunched in on himself as he looked up and down the street. Crusader was on his feet and moving fast as he could, keeping the deck jockey in sight as he closed the gap. It was hard covering the ground and trying to stay in the kid’s blind spot.

There were a couple of ways that he could play this but honestly, getting the kid to agree was going to be a cakewalk. That kind of money, well, you’d have to be a damned fool to say no. Crusader looked up and down the street. It was deserted mostly, just a couple of people rushing about, getting things done before the gangs started waking up and taking over, but he couldn’t take the chance that someone would put a call into one of the Zombie freaks and haul their asses down before he’d had a chance to talk to the kid and make his offer. He decided to play it cool until he had the kid outta the eye line of any passersby.

“Hey,” he called out, skipping to close the distance, “Hey, you there.” He waited until the boy looked around, “I’m looking for Third Street. Can you help?”

The kid looked apologetic as he shrugged and hunched in on himself a little more, “Sorry, man. You’re on the wrong side of town.”

Crusader frowned, play-acting his part to the hilt, “Aw, jeez, really? Shoot, I always get myself turned around in the middle of the Gauntlet.” He looked up and down the street again. One target a couple of doors up but nothing else. He needed to keep the kid talking for another couple of seconds. “Help a guy out?”

The kid looked around, eyes darting around to watch the alleyways. Crusader bit back a grin. The guy had himself some street smarts. Not a bad thing for a job like this.

“Wrong neighbourhood for charity.”

Crusader tried his best to look sheepish, “Yeah, I suppose.” He paused, checking up the street again. They were alone. Time to make his move. “Look man, I got some money. Call it fifty creds for directions? Price of taking a shortcut, I guess.”

The kid seemed to think about it for a second but finally pointed down the street, “Five blocks down and two to the left will get you out of the Gauntlet. You need to ask someone else from there.”

Crusader was moving before the kid finished speaking, his hand striking out to catch the boy along the line of his collar bones and slamming him back to crash into the hard brick wall behind him. He growled when he saw the kid’s hands slam out to break the momentum.

“The fuck?”

There was a look of indignation mixed with anger all over the kid’s face, like he was the one being inconvenienced here and it annoyed Crusader. This was a data runner, a geek, a deck jockey who was supposed to be pissing himself as soon as Crusader stepped into his space, but he wasn’t and Crusader just couldn’t allow that. He grabbed the kid roughly, digging his fingers into the kid’s arm and drag-shoved him down an alley. The kid struggled, but all that did was ratchet up the anger that Crusader was feeling. He turned the kid to face him, close enough that the boy would have no problem hearing his words.

“Scream out and this will only go harder on you. I don't wanna leave you lying out here but I will if I have to.”

It was true. He didn’t particularly want to leave the kid lying in the dirt but he would if he didn’t stop squirming. Silverfyre was interested in this kid so he had to be worth something, even if he was a punk who wouldn’t listen to his betters.

The kid struck out with a leg, kicking hard. He caught Crusader just at the kneecap and Crusader cursed as the joint buckled, sending him down to one knee. He had to let the kid go to catch himself. The kid took one step, two and Crusader could see the thoughts of running written all over his face and he was damned if he was going to let that happen. Using every ounce of speed he could wring from his wired reflexes, he reached out and grabbed the kid’s ankle, hooking it and yanking hard. But the kid seemed to be ready for it and spun himself somehow until he was rolling out of Crusader’s grip again. He flipped to his feet and glared down at Crusader.

“Fuck off!”

That was it! No one spoke that way to him, he didn’t care who they were. City was crawling with data runners and any one of them would probably do the job just as good as this little turd. He’d leave him crying for his mommy in an alley, praying for death. It was better than he deserved, but he didn’t have luxury of taking his time. Not anymore.

He pulled his gun cleanly, livewire connectors unfurling from their recessed alcove in his forearm and hooking in automatically giving him every iota of targeting information he could possibly need. He had it aimed directly between the kid’s eyes before he could blink.

“One more step dude and you're gonna be breathing through a new orifice,” his voice was cold, hard, a tone he’d practised well over the years.

Sure enough, the kid went still, not moving a muscle. Figured that you just needed to know how to talk to little punks. Crusader took a second to get to his feet. His knee was still tender and he knew he was going to have a bruise there in the shape of the kid’s foot. But there’d be time to pay the kid back for that later. He tested the knee, shifting his weight. It’d be find in a couple of minutes, more than likely.

“You brought a handgun to the Gauntlet? Death wish much?”

The kid had a smart mouth, that was for sure, and Crusader flexed his finger over the trigger. The kid had his hand in his bag. A gun was Crusader’s first thought but he dismissed it. If the kid tried to draw down on him, he’d be dead before he even got the gun out of the bag. But he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Least an hour before your precious gangers stop scratching their nuts,” Crusader sneered, “Plenty of time for you and me to have a little talk. Hand outta the bag, kid, out where I can see them both.”

The kid pulled his hand out and it took Crusader a minute to figure out exactly what he was looking at and all he could come up with was that it was some homemade doohickey covered with glowing LEDs. Fucked if he knew any more than that.

“The hell is that?” he asked.

“EMP - on a deadman's switch.” The kid was starting to look cocky now, “By my watch you've got thirty minutes before the Zombies start walking. Think you can crawl out of the Gauntlet with fried 'ware in thirty minutes?”

Kid had balls, he had to give him that. Crusader knew better than most exactly how screwed he’d be if the kid decided to drop the EMP in the middle of a fight. He’d done it enough times to other mercs. The only thing he could do was try to convince the kid not to pull the pin. Maybe if he thought there was gonna be no benefit to it, he might be able to get out with his cyberware intact.

“Dunno who you been hanging with,” Crusader bluffed. “That little gizmo ain't gonna do nothing but drop my livewires. Rest of me's all natural, kid. You drop that, you better start running straight away cause I'm gonna be on your tail, breathing hard.”

The kid smirked and released the catch, “Thanks, just what I wanted to know.”

Crusader cursed and dived for the EMP, hoping to catch it before it went off but he was too late. A blinding flash of light and a horrifically loud bang rocked the relative silence of the alleyway. The world shot to silent black as his cyberware compensated for the flash bang. Kid had tricked him. It wasn’t an EMP at all, just a cheap trick designed to leave him helpless. The kid was going to _pay_ for that.

Crusader brought his gun back up, and squeezed the trigger, but the kid was already moving, running down the alleyway fast as he could, ducking and dodging through the urban obstacle course. Crusader was on his heels, pushing his reflexes to the max to catch the kid. There was a fence ahead, one of those old wooden ones, solid except for where someone seemed to have taken a damned hatchet to it down in one corner. If he could catch him there, then maybe…

Instead, the kid was through the hole faster than Crusader could spit and damned if Crusader could work out how he’d fitted himself through there because he sure as hell would never fit. Crusader had to heft himself over the fence, losing vital seconds.

“Fucking little jackrabbit,” Crusader cursed, “Come to offer a guy a job and he flash bangs ya.”

He had to bite back a shout as his knee protested at the rough landing on the other side but he pushed on. A flash of black was just disappearing around a corner and Crusader was on the trail again, one busted up alley fading into another as he worked to close the distance. His blood was up and he was not letting the kid get away.

He almost had him, could almost reach out and touch him when the bastard ducked into a building. Crusader barrelled in after him, pulling up short as the door swung closed, blocking out all the light.

“Wrong turn, asshole.”

He recognized the kid’s voice in the darkness and flicked through the filters, trying to get some idea of where he was and what he was facing. He didn’t like the situation. The hairs were starting to stand on the back of his neck and finally he clicked the night vision lens into place. Everything flashed green for a second and then settled back into that greeny grainy imagery that he knew so well. He could see the kid standing there, a grin on his face.

Crusader couldn’t see anything funny but he had a feeling that there was an ace somewhere that he wasn’t seeing, “The hell you talking about boy?”

“This here is Zombie turf, asswipe, and you aren't wearing colours.”

There was a distinctive sound from beside him, the clunk-clunk of a shotgun being racked, and then another and another and another. He looked around and saw what had to be three dozen guns all pointing at him.

“Mother of...” he started backing up, holstering his gun and holding his hands up in surrender, “Misunderstanding, ma'am...” he tried to explain, “I'll just be...”

Crusader turned and ran, redlining his wired reflexes straight into the danger zone as the first shots blasted the plaster beside him. Fucking data runners and their fucking gangs. Leave the bastard for Silverfyre. They deserved each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Momma’s boys ran the merc clear across the Gauntlet, watched every step of the way by the security cameras Kris had spent the morning reactivating. By the time the asshole finally crossed sixty-forth and ran headlong into Charivari territory, he had every gang in the Gauntlet on his heels. The Charivari might be the most self-righteous anti-cyberware zealots in the city but they carried very, very big guns. One gang alone might have been willing to retreat to fight another day rather than face the Charivari killing grounds. Running from the Charivari in front of the neighbours, however, was unthinkable and the fight escalated immediately.

"You go on home, honey," Momma said as she sorted through a box of ammunition. "We got this."

"Yeah, okay," Kris nodded. "Tell me if you need anything?"

"Will do," Momma nodded absently. "You go along now."

Kris pulled his goggles on and slipped out, heading in the opposite direction of the spreading battle royale. The Gauntlet had been overdue for the weekly riot so the gangs should be busy for the rest of the day but Kris would be happier if the merc hadn't made it out. He needed to make a phone call and the only place he could get his hands on a phone these days was in Marcie's coffee shop.

He could have tapped the lines again but if there were more mercs looking for him, Kris couldn't take the risk that Minx had figured out the routing protocol. It was safer to use the payphone.

Marcie made him a cappuccino that was mostly froth and Kris slotted a cred chip into the battered Nokey. The phone, the same size and approximate shape of a cinder block, was crudely welded to the wall but it worked and right now, that was all Kris cared about.

Well, not entirely true. Kris looked over his shoulder. Marcie was tinkering with the grinder and the only other customers were too wrapped in their own misery to care. He plugged the deck into the battered jack and booted the line security program. It was overkill but Kris was feeling paranoid. He dialled Drew's number from memory and stirred the froth into stiff curls as he listened to it ring.

"Talk to me," Drew barked.

"It's me," Kris said, leaning his forehead against the scarred phone.

"Kr-Juniper!" Drew sounded stunned. "Twice in one day? Is the world ending? Should I be spending my savings on booze?"

"Great disaster recovery plan," Kris mocked, smiling a little.

"Fuck recovery," Drew said cheerfully. "The world ends and I'm going to be so drunk that I'm not going to notice until three days later."

"You're still the original cynic then? I think you might have actually come full circle back to optimist."

"Never happen," Drew said comfortably. There was a pause and he continued in a more serious tone. "The line's secure?"

"As secure as I can get it," Kris glanced down at the status lights on his deck. "Payphone."

"So this is serious?"

"A merc tried to grab me off the street," Kris said. "Didn't catch his name but he was pretty serious about it."

"Tell me," Drew said and Kris told him everything he could remember about the whole encounter. He gave the best description of the guy he could but he'd been more worried about the gun pointed at his head. There weren't many mercs stupid enough to show their faces in the Gauntlet with just a 9 mil to keep the gangers at bay. Kris wasn't exactly plugged into the merc circles but a guy that stupid wouldn't have much of a rep anyway.

Drew asked a lot of questions and Kris answered as best he could, watching the other customers. Most of them were familiar figures; junkies and the dregs that even the gangs didn't bother to attack. There was an older lady, wearing several layers of clothes who counted out a handful of actual coins to pay for the cheap coffee and added a fistful of sugar sachets. She looked old enough to be Kris' grandma and mostly neatly turned out. You had to really look to see the track marks on her wrist.

"Sounds like Crusader," Drew said eventually. "He's a mean son of a bitch who doesn't have the sense God gave a mosquito."

"He works with Silverfyre?" Kris asked. Two different mercs looking for him? He had nightmares that ended better than this. All he needed now was _Nebula_ sniffing around in person.

"Not likely," Drew snorted. "Those two are more likely to wind up on opposite sides of a contract. Word is that there's blood between them lately. Crusader's been giving Silverfyre a lot of space. No word on why but I'll look into it. I don't think it was a job. Silverfyre's got a solid rep, picks his jobs carefully. Crusader's all about the money."

"Awesome," Kris groaned.

"The only thing I can think of against Silverfyre is that he can't spell 'fire'," Drew said with an audible shrug. "Don't know why the y."

"Typical pretentious merc bullshit," Kris rolled his eyes. Mercs and their fucking handles. “...and helping remind us that most mercs never finish school. Don't let this happen to you, kids! He's a one man government advisory to stay in school."

 

"Nice to know you're still the charming Hi-Juniper that we know and love," Drew laughed. "So, are you planning to stay in the Gauntlet or do you need me to liquidate an escape fund?"

"Maybe soon," Kris said, bumping his head against the phone. "Got a little longer. I need to get a few jobs, look into where the fuck I can go."

"All right," Drew sobered immediately. "I'll see what I can turn up but the Net's not exactly lighting up with jobs right now. _Nebula_ 's sent most of the data-runners and data-jobs dark. No one wants to be out there when Nebula are sniffing around. Running against them is a great way to get yourself dead. You know that."

"I know," Kris sighed. "I need to get back. I'll call you later, all right?"

"Take care of yourself," Drew said seriously. "You need anything - _anything_ \- and I want you to call me or call Kickstand. No arguments. Call or we'll come looking. You hear me?"

"I hear," Kris shook his head. "I promise, okay."

"I'm holding you to that," Drew said before hanging up.

Kris shut down his deck and unplugged it. No-one seemed to be paying attention to him but there was a prickling feeling between his shoulder blades. He felt too exposed sitting here with only the grubby windows and the chipped paint of Marcie's summer window picture from two years ago. He couldn't get his cred chip back from the slot without physically taking the slot apart and it wasn't worth pissing Marcie off for forty creds or so.

None of the other customers looked up as Kris stuffed his deck back into his bag and headed out. There was smoke rising on the far side of the skyscrapers and the glow of fire. There were AVs circling, mostly media corp helicopters studded with cameras but there were a few squat, sinister outlines showing where _Fortress_ were circling.

Riots were a fairly big distraction and Kris was able to sneak back to Zombie turf without anyone noticing him. He was a block and a half from his apartment when he heard a bike engine. Zombie bikes were hacked together wrecks salvaged from the side of the road and coughed worse than a lifelong chain smoker. The bike coming up behind him sounded significantly more...expensive.

Cale was the one who knew bikes but even before he'd rebranded himself as Kickstand, Kris had been his favourite audience for the 'Cale Mills Knows Bikes' hour. He's heard of Dozois and seen pictures of the top-range TSR class in the sort of bike-zines that sell for fifteen creds. The bike pulling up to the kerb was a TSR-MP. Cale threatened, several times, to sell Kris' kidneys for one if he could find somewhere that was willing to pay a couple of hundred grand for them.

He doesn't recognise the rider but the bike looked like a custom job. Kris' stomach sank all the way into his boots. There was only one person dumb enough to ride a bike worth more money than Kris had made in five years into Zombie turf. Kris kept his head down and walked a little faster.

"Juniper? Hey, Juniper," the bike pulled in to the kerb and the rider hopped nimbly off to tower over him. Silverfyre stripped off his helmet and Kris tried ducked past him but Silverfyre moved to block him. "Hey, you okay? Word on the street is that Crusader came looking for someone in here."

"And you assumed that he was looking for me?" Kris tried to dodge around him again.

"There's fuck all else for that stupid asshole down here," Silverfyre pointed out. "He must have been watching me."

"So it's your fault," Kris said before he could catch himself. "And now you...what? Expect me to be grateful that someone who can't even spell his own name right comes riding to my rescue three hours later?"

Kris' self-preservation kicked in belatedly and he shut his mouth with a snap. Silverfyre looked amused, not pissed but mercs weren't known for their well-balanced emotional responses. Kris started looking around for a way out.

"I spell it perfectly. I thought of spelling it F- _I_ -R-E but it was just so bland," Silverfyre's lips curled lazily into a smile and Kris looked away. "If I wanted to be a 'normal' person, I wouldn't be a merc."

"There's a fine line between 'normal' and 'flashing neon sign'," Kris pointed out dryly. "You look like you mugged a fairy!"

"And you apparently mugged a corn field scarecrow," Silverfyre looked Kris up and down with his lip curled just slightly. "What's your point?"

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Kris bristled despite himself. The smart thing to do was to just shut his mouth and keep his head down until he was back and safe in his apartment.

"No, honey," Silverfyre smirked. "I _know_ I am."

"And yet you wear that," Kris pointed out reasonably. Silverfyre's armour with the silver flame patterns could probably be seen from space.

"It's a look," Silverfyre waved a hand dismissively. "And unlike that little ensemble that you threw on this morning, it's memorable."

"Which means the last corp you ran against know exactly who they're looking for," Kris stared up at him in disbelief. Drew had talked up Silverfyre's professionalism and his solid reputation. "Memorable isn't exactly the best thing for a working merc if you want to keep your skin intact."

"One bridge at a time honey," Silverfyre actually rolled his eyes. "I'm not on a job right this second. You'll see a whole other side when you come on the run."

"I haven't got a run planned," Kris said casually, heart rate spiking so high that his bio-monitor beeped and a cold sweat prickling along his hairline.

"Not yet you don't," Silverfyre answered, staring down at him.

"Look, dude," Kris said, looking for a way past the merc who was suddenly too damn close. "I'm retired."

"Not according to the word on the street," Silverfyre stepped closer and Kris leaned back automatically. "The _Yakamori_ job two weeks ago. The _Ego_ job the week before that. The _Kings_ job two weeks before that. You're no more retired than I am."

"That's just some contract work," Kris edged to the left a little. "I don't do runs. I supply the know-how to the guys that do the runs."

"You're the best at what you do," Silverfyre made it a flat statement of fact.

Kris swallowed, heart still racing. "You're being too generous."

"I don't do generous."

"No?" Kris scoffed. "But you do flattery?"

"Only if I have to," Silverfyre shrugged casually, eyes still intent. "But this isn't flattery. I've done my research. I asked around on the streets for the best data-runner in the business, all the runners that I trust point to you. Lots of stories around about you but not much truth."

"Huh," Kris shifted his weight a little, hugging his bag a little closer. "That's a lot of research. You did all that and you didn't hear that I. Re. Tired."

"No. I heard you were scared to do a real world run," Silverfyre purred and Kris squirmed a little. "If you were retired, you would have hung up your deck."

"Old data-runners aren't like old mercs," Kris managed to squirm past and it was an effort not to just run for the safety of his apartment. "We retire before we wind up in the Body Bank."

"And you didn't take one of the seventeen corp offers because...?" Silverfyre's voice followed him and Kris nearly tripped over his own feet. Even Drew hadn't known about all of those offers and just the thought that this big pushy merc with his too-blue eyes and utter inability to pick up a hint knew something like that about him just about gave Kris a heart attack.

"Because I'm not fucking stupid?" Kris tried to laugh it off but Silverfyre stepped in front of him, arms out a little to block him in.

"Turning down a seven figure salary... yeah, real ' _stupid_ '," Silverfyre mocked.

"Seven figures and your soul," Kris snapped. "Yeah, great fucking deal if that's your thing. Not for me, thanks."

"So, it's not the massive pay check that you object to," Silverfyre looked down at him, head tilted to the side as if he was trying to work him out like a puzzle in the screamsheets. "I’m guessing you checked the boards, yeah? The news has gotta be plastered all over the net by now. You know how big the pay check is for this job, assuming everything goes right? And there’s always the optional bonuses for info we recover."

"You still wouldn't be paying me enough for this," Kris said honestly. "Thanks anyway."

"Jeez, what's your damage?" Silverfyre snapped, crowding into Kris' personal space. "What happened? Did you get burned on a payout? Or did you just pick some major league losers to run with? Some jackass who didn't know that the data runner is the most important person on the damned team, especially when you run against a data corp?"

"...yeah," Kris hunched his shoulders and looked away. "I don't do runs. Full stop. Good luck with your search, there's a couple of names floating on the forums. Bye."

He straight-up shoved past the merc, gripping his bag so hard that his knuckles turned white. Again, Silverfyre followed him, still pushing like Kris was the one not picking up on the obvious here.

"I don't want any of those names. They're shit compared to you. So tell me," Silverfyre caught him by the shoulder and tugged him around. "What would it take to get you on the run? Name it. Anything.”

Kris shook his head, jerking his shoulder out of the merc's steely grip or trying to at least.

"Name it," Silverfyre insisted.

"I don't want to do your fucking run!" Kris snarled, shoving at Silverfyre's arm.

"Give me a good reason why not," Silverfyre demanded, ignoring Kris' attempts to break free.

"Because I'm all out of second chances when it comes to trusting mercs to watch my back," Kris spat right into his face.

"Shit," Silverfyre breathed, letting go of Kris' shoulder and leaning back. "How close did you come?"

Kris rubbed sullenly at his shoulder and refused to answer. He didn't owe this merc jack or shit and he winced away from the memories and god, he wasn't going to be about to sleep tonight.

"Okay," Silverfyre said, all soft and persuasive. "Tell me what happened?"

Kris slouched back against the wall behind him, blinking fiercely and clamped his jaws shut tight. _None of your fucking business,_ he chanted silently.

"You want me to back off," Silverfyre urged, "then tell me what the hell they did to get you running scared at the _idea_ of a run."

Kris closed his eyes and used every profanity he'd ever heard but Silverfyre was just watching him with those sharp eyes and Kris could see that he wasn't just going to let this drop.

"I trusted a merc to have my back," Kris admitted. "He wasn't there when I needed him."

"Why not?" Silverfyre asked, brows drawing down sharply. "What was so damned fired important that you lost your minder?"

Kris pushed off the wall and started walking. Silverfyre let him pass but fell in just behind him where Kris couldn't quite see him. "I didn't get to ask. He didn't see the need to explain it to me."

"You get injured?" Silverfyre demanded.

"I'm not talking about this" Kris said flatly. "You're so fucking smart, you figure it out."

"So, I'll hire some street runners just to watch your back," Silverfyre offered. "Problem solved."

Kris looked back over his shoulder. "What makes you think I'll trust them any better than I trust you?"

Silverfyre scowled. "So you pick them!"

Kris turned away. The door to his apartment was right there: ten feet, nine. "I don't run with mercs. I don't trust mercs. What part of this is confusing you?"

"I'm not settling for second best on this," Silverfyre stopped in front of him and Kris tensed up. He really wasn't up to another mad dash through the Gauntlet in the hope that he found a few Zombies who hadn't joined the riot. He nearly dropped his keys when Silverfyre cursed sharply behind him. "This is a retirement job. This would set you up for _life_ , let you do whatever you want afterwards. Proper retirement, picking jobs you want rather than jobs to pay the bills."

Kris got his keys in the lock and he refused to look around. "Just-just leave me alone."

The door slammed behind him, leaving Silverfyre alone on the street and Kris dropped his bag and his keys. His hands were shaking like a junkie's on day two of cold turkey and Kris' bio-monitor was pinging an alarm as his heart slammed against his ribcage. Kris closed his eyes and cursed shakily in the gloom of the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

Adam let the revs climb until they tickled the red line before shifting gear. He was pushing it, he knew he was but he needed to work a couple of things out and best place for that was either in the post coitus haze of a good fuck or on the back of a bike. He really didn’t feel like going through the rounds of flattery and small talk for a forgettable one night stand.

The first item, and the simplest to resolve, was his bike. Ever since he’d gotten her back from the mechanic, she'd felt tight. It was hard to describe but she just wasn’t the same. She wobbled on the corners and skittered as soon as she hit three figures. She flat out refused to cross two hundred and Adam was starting to have a severe case of biking blue balls. It was like she was brand new off the shop floor again and that wasn’t good, not with what he was planning; not with the job of a lifetime on the horizon. He’d spent a lot of time getting her worn in just the way he needed and with one teeny tiny EMP it was like she was back to store standard. And if he couldn’t open her up and work out the kinks, he was going to have to get her into a garage, and a better one than his usual by the feel of it, and get her fixed up properly.

It was just another something to add to the list of things he needed to settle with Crusader. Between the injuries he’d gotten from the guy’s recruitment drive, the chewing out that he’d gotten from Allison and the fact that it was starting to look like the bastard had ears inside _Idolize_ , Crusader was racking up a hell of a tab. All that would have been bad enough but now Crusader looked to be honing in on Adam’s jobs and prospective team-mates. Once he figured out exactly how Crusader’d found out about his little trip to The Gauntlet, that bastard had payback coming and when Adam was done with him, he’d be lucky if there’d be enough left to sell to the body bank.

That led him on to the second snarl of thoughts that he needed to work out: Juniper. There was something there, just tweaking in the back of him mind about the small data runner, an uneasy feeling that he got whenever he spoke to the kid. The kid was afraid of something. What that something was, Adam didn’t quite know but according to Minx, there was no one else in the city that could crack the corporate security systems like this kid could. Maybe if he could find out Juniper’s story, if he could figure out what he could do to alleviate the kid’s fears, then maybe they could push past this and just get the damned job done before some dimwit decided that the best way to crack the building was by ramming the front door with a tank and blowing the place to Hell.

The kid... Adam stopped himself. According to Minx, Juniper had to be in his mid-twenties, only a couple of years younger than Adam even if there was something about the way he carried himself that just seemed fit better with a teenager than a full-grown man. Still, Juniper lived and worked out of The Gauntlet so he couldn’t be that naïve. It took guts to mix it up with the Zombies and given how quickly they’d jumped in to help when Juniper looked to need it, he had to be either blooded or protected and from the look of him, Adam just couldn’t imagine him surviving a blooding. Gauntlet blooding ceremonies were usually heavy on the blood and light on common sense and usually ended up with more dead bodies than new members. So there had to be another angle, one that Adam wasn’t seeing.

He’d gotten a little information from Juniper, enough to know that he was gun shy, but the fact that he was still standing even after Crusader had tried his best – bad as that was – showed that the guy had some skills, or street-smarts at the very least. It was good to know but that didn’t get Adam any closer to hiring Juniper. Something had happened, bad enough to send the kid running scared into the Gauntlet and so far neither Minx nor Allison had been able to pull up anything. In fact, they couldn’t pull up much on the data runner. Sure, they could tie his name to a couple of jobs but beyond that, there was nothing. No credit record, no _criminal_ record, no System Information Number, no registered phone number, no taxes, not even a parking ticket to suggest his real name. The guy was living completely off the grid, and doing it with a skill that Adam had to envy. But that wasn’t to say that it wasn’t frustrating the crap out of him. There was nothing that he could identify as common ground, nothing on which he could hang a conversation and that was making him push hard, probably too hard, but he couldn’t let this job go.

He'd had Allison in his ear constantly telling him what a bad idea this was and how she was sure that it had to be a trap, and yeah, it could be. He wasn’t blind to that but it didn’t change the fact that Dillinger had payback coming and that Adam _had_ to be the one to deliver it. That cocky no-good son of a diseased gunjack and a rusted exhaust was going to pay for what he’d done and Adam would do whatever it took to make sure that it happened, even if it meant grovelling and pleading with a data runner who clearly didn’t want to be part of the cut-throat street merc scene. This job was too important to even try a second rate runner, even if he _had_ had someone that he trusted ready to jump into the fire with him.

What the hell could he offer to a data runner like Juniper? Data-runners weren’t like street mercs. They didn’t think the same way. They didn’t see things the same way. Juniper’d seen straight through the bullshit that Crusader had shovelled. Juniper hadn't reacted the way most data-runners had when Adam rolled up to offer them a juicy job with a fat paycheck. Adam had kids lined up around the block eager and willing to work alongside him, but not this guy. This guy was different and his usual approaches wouldn’t work. He _needed_ this approach to work but Adam didn’t even know where to start. What avenues were left? If cocky wouldn’t work and playing on his rep would only send Juniper underground, then what was there? The truth? Maybe if he laid it all out for Juniper, the runner would understand? He didn’t know but right now, it was his best option. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was his only option.

 

Adam rode around, taking turn after turn until the sun started to rise again. He’d stopped to fill the tank twice but apart from that, he hadn’t even slowed. At least his bike was starting to feel a little like she used to but there was still a long way to go. He’d missed twelve calls from Allison so far and he’d bailed on tonight’s set and last night’s set and the night before had been no different. Adam’d left her a note saying that he was chasing down a lead but that’d been what he’d been telling her all week. She’d be out of her mind with worry that he hadn’t replied yet but Adam couldn’t spare even the two seconds it would take to send a quick text message telling her that he was okay. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted to get through this. Not if he didn’t want to hear her patented ‘this is a fucking stupid idea’ lecture.

He had a hundred things done and a thousand left to do and no damned time to do it in. He needed to get the drop on this job before someone else ran against _Trojan_. Meetings with security guards, cleaning staff, runners who’d tried it their way and washed out, disgruntled admin staff who were happy to spill their guts for a drink and ten creds. He’d been busy all week, finding every bolt hole and back alleyway in the city and turning over rocks to find the cockroaches just waiting for someone to listen to their stories. His spare room was crowded with notes, floor plans and exit strategies.

Dragging up old memories was hard for him. He’d buried them so deep that, Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could talk about them anymore. Even Allison didn’t know most of this shit but here he was about to tell some data runner who, for all he knew, would just turn around and say no at the end of it. It was a bitter thought but damn it, he had to try. He owed himself that much. He owed _them_ that much.

Adam slapped the white tags into place on his bike and coasted through the border. It wasn’t foolproof, but at least with the tags the average ganger would know that he wasn’t looking for trouble. They wouldn’t save him if he walked into the middle of a gang war or decided to take potshots at people but if he wasn’t stupid, then there was at least a chance he’d get out without getting shot at too much.

There were a few of last night’s partiers still making their way home but they were too hopped up on whatever they’d taken to even glance in his direction. The Zombies seemed to be off the streets but he wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled to a stop in front of the building that Juniper had disappeared into just the day before. With a flick of his foot, the kickstand was down and he rested the weight of the bike on it. He pulled off his helmet and set it on one of the handlebars before running a hand though his hair. It was bound to be flat and grungy and he wished that he’d stopped off for a shower. But he knew that if he had, he would probably have backed out.

With a flick of his eye, he dulled the decals down to plain black. This wasn’t a time to be the flashy street merc and part time rocker boy Silverfyre, in this, Adam Lambert might make more headway. And besides, it felt more... real; truer to who he was at this moment. It felt honest and maybe that would help. Dismounting his bike, Adam checked his guns, ensuring that they were safed and holstered, with the covers secured in place. Taking a deep breath, he approached the door that Juniper had slammed in his face yesterday and knocked. He waited in silence, trying to figure out what to say to get Juniper to listen but after another two knocks and no answer, Adam realised that he wasn’t going to get one.

Looking around, Adam saw a disused bus shelter across the road and headed over, hoping for a working vending machine. It was a long shot given that the busses had to have stopped serving this end of the city almost ten years ago now. But to his surprise, he saw a busted up old coffee machine. It had gang signs all over it but the lights were on, and when he slotted his cred chip, a cup with something that smelt enough like coffee to satisfy him came out. It wasn’t the best coffee in the world, but it wasn’t the worst either. He huffed a laugh. No, that award had to go to Allison. How a girl with a top class bar failed at coffee, he didn’t know but the girl could make people cry with her brew.

Adam made his way back to his bike and leaned up against it, sipping at the luke warm beverage. It was about half an hour before he saw him, hunched over and walking up the street. He looked tired, like he hadn’t gotten any sleep either. Adam waited for the data runner to notice him, to say something, but there was nothing. It seemed to be taking all his attention to keep plodding on, just putting one foot in front of the other.

He was almost level when Adam finally spoke, “Jeez, Juniper, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

The kid’s head snapped up and Adam could have sworn that his feet left the sidewalk. Adam smirked, it was probably a good thing that Juniper wasn’t a merc or else Adam’s armour would have a hole in it.

It took a second for Juniper to relax enough to reply, “And yet, no one is here to see.”

Adam looked up and down the street and yeah, he was right. Everywhere was deserted but it wasn’t the easy empty that you had with a street in the corp sector, but rather the tentative peace of a ceasefire, ready to snap at the first misstep. It was too quiet and that made Adam uneasy. He held the cup deliberately, both hands around the plastic container, carefully keeping them in view and away from his guns.

“Yeah,” Adam finally agreed, “I guess all good Zombies are turning in now it’s daytime. They aren’t exactly the nine to five type.”

“My kind of people,” Juniper muttered and Adam could see him looking from the doorway to Adam and back, and could almost see the calculations happening behind the goggles the other man was wearing.

Adam shrugged, not moving more than his shoulders, “I gotta say, I’m kinda surprised. You just don’t strike me as your typical Zombie.”

“I just like the dress code,” he paused, “You here for some tips?”

Adam smirked, “I think I’m good. Thanks.” Damn but he liked Juniper’s snappy replies. The runner had a really quick wit, but Adam couldn’t let that sway him. “No.” Adam paused, and took a deep breath, “No, Look I guess you could say that I’m here to give it one last shot.”

Adam didn’t miss the way that Juniper’s eyes flicked to his guns or the involuntary swallow.

“It?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “The __Trojan__ job.” He held up his hands, well one hand and one coffee cup, cutting off anything Juniper wanted to say, “Before you say no, gimme a chance to explain why I’m pushing so hard, yeah?”

Juniper hugged his satchel close and flicked another gaze at his front door, “I got a choice?”

Adam leaned back against his bike, “You always have a choice. But I wish you’d hear me out.”

Juniper watched him for a second, “... fine. Talk.”

Adam looked around. There was still no one on the street, but every sense he had was tingling, “Not here. You can pick the place, but out here on the street, I gotta admit that my shoulder blades are itching.”

"You've got another...” Juniper pauses, “hour before the bail goes through.”

Adam looked around, but there was nowhere around other than alleyways and he couldn’t imagine that Juniper would agree to that. Just alleyways and... the bus shelter.

“Then, what about there?” Adam points across the road to the covered shelter. “At least it has a machine that gives coffee. It’s not good, but it’s better that nothing.”

Juniper glanced around and finally agreed, “Fine.”

Adam left his helmet hooked over the handlebars of his bike, and tossed his half-drunk coffee cup before he made his way across the street. He slotted his credchip and pushed the button to get two coffees. By the time the second had finished dripping into the small plastic cup, Juniper was beside him. He held it out, “You look like you could do with it.”

Juniper’s eyes followed his hands closely and it struck Adam as amusing. The kid looked like he thought that Adam would slip something into the cup. Paranoid or what? Someone had definitely rubbed this kid the wrong way before. Adam took a sip of his own before Juniper hesitantly took the other cup.

“Thanks.”

Adam nodded an acknowledgement and sat down on the busted up bench. It creaked ominously as he did and Adam just hoped that it wasn’t going to break under him. He wasn’t sure that covered in cooling coffee was a look he could pull off.

It was a full two minutes before he opened his mouth to speak and even then he didn’t know what to say, “I'm not entirely sure where to start, really. But I guess the beginning is as good a place as any, right?”

Juniper shrugged and chanced his coffee.

“It's not something I talk about but I guess I got to if I want you to consider the job. Gotta have all the facts,” his voice was low and he fought to keep it from catching in his throat.

What had he been thinking? He hadn’t shared this story with anyone, not a single person since that day. Hell, not even Allison knew the details and she was family to him. But here he was spilling it out to a random stranger just to get him to sign on to do one of the most dangerous damned jobs to hit the city grapevine. Adam couldn’t bring himself to look at Juniper, so he just looked at the ground, focusing on a tiny stone that sat caught between two cracks in the sidewalk.

“Uh-huh.”

Adam heard the other man make the sound but he wasn’t paying attention, not really. He was caught up in the past.

“I've been a street merc since I was old enough to buy my own gun,” he started, “Since I was 16 or there about. Ran with a group of older guys, gave me a hard time but they trained me right, made sure I knew what I was doing, made sure that I knew enough to stay out of trouble and to duck when I needed to.”

He can hear the crinkle of a plastic cup beside him but he doesn’t look up, “I was the eldest kid, and after my dad left, well, mom was working two, and sometimes three, jobs to put food on the table for the three of us and I had to look after my little brother.”

“Okay...”

There was a dubious tone to the word but he needed to push on. This was where it had all started, the need to bring _Trojan_ down, the need for retribution, in a tiny two bed apartment on the bad side of the suburbs.

“I kinda resented it, you know,” he shrugged, “but as soon he was old enough to be left on his own, I was out on the street, picking up jobs and making more money in an hour than my mom made in a week. And when I'd get back, I'd have all these stories that I just had to share. And my brother, Neil,” Adam’s voice caught on the name and he had to stop for a second, “Neil was hooked. As soon as I'd get home, he'd be there begging me to tell him what I'd been doing that day.”

“Ah....” Juniper seemed to understand that and Adam was glad.

He pushed on, “Then he turned 16 and begged me to take him shopping for a gun of his own, and armour and everything else it took. And like an idiot, I did.”

“How old were you?” Juniper asked.

“19,” Adam smirked as he remembered, “My mom chewed me up one side and down the other when she found out.”

“....I can kinda see why.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “I'd been shot twice the previous year and that didn't exactly sit well with her. But for both her boys to be going into street running, well, she knew the odds.”

“Still...” Juniper trailed off, playing with his coffee cup.

“What can I say? I was his big brother and I thought it was great that he wanted to be just like me.” Adam paused, “The group that had trained me had moved on by then, so I had the group that I was running with at the time take him in and did all his training myself.”

“You trusted your gang right?” Juniper asked.

Adam nodded, “I did, and that wasn't the problem. They were great. They watched out for him, kept his head down until he could hold his own. But you know what happens when you got someone new in a gang when everyone else has been there years?”

“Not really.”

Adam looked up at him and realised that he didn’t. Data runners worked solo so yeah, he couldn’t know. Not really.

“They occasionally forget that not everyone can do what they do. So, we took jobs that we probably shouldn't have. A few of them were more than ambitious, even for the few of us who'd been at this game for years,” Adam admitted, “And the inevitable happened. Neil caught a bullet. Nothing serious, just an arm shot, but Mom went mental.”

“Could have been worse.”

Adam barked a laugh, “Says the guy who never met my Mom. She'd put most fixers in the city to shame and even twenty year vets of the streets backed away from her.”

Juniper looked doubtful, “...did she go on jobs too?”

“My mom?” Adam asked, “No. No, my mom worked every job from cleaner to receptionist to waitress before settling on interior design. She didn't know one end of a gun from another but she never let that stop her. There is nothing more terrifying than a short Jewish woman who knows where you sleep, trust me on that.”

“Huh,” was the only reply that Juniper made and Adam didn’t know exactly why. Surely he wasn’t surprised that Adam was afraid of his mom. Every boy is if you get right down to it, but Adam had to admit that his mom had a certain tone of voice that stuck feet to the floor and made everyone cower down when she used it.

“Either way,” Adam continued, “that was it for Neil. Mom wouldn't let him out onto the streets again. And I could see her point.”

Juniper nodded, “Hard to argue.”

Adam paused, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he went on, “Neil, however, being the brat that he was, well, he snuck out as soon as her back was turned. Avoided the group that I ran with and anyone that we associated with to hook up with another gang of mercs. A younger crew.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It was,” Adam looked back down at that stone trapped in the cracks between two paving slabs. “They were adrenaline junkies.” He shrugged, “Okay, I know that all street merc are to an extent but these guys took crazy risks. And well, Neil got himself shot again. But this time it wasn't just a simple through and through to the arm. No, whoever they were up against had some Fragmentation Specials.” He looked up at Juniper, “Dunno if you know them, but soon as they break the skin, they split up into a thousand tiny pieces. Shredded a couple of his organs and almost killed him.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.” Adam sighed, “Before he ever went out onto the street, I got him a Med-E-Vac card with enough money on it that if he ever flatlined, they'd be there to freeze him and fix him inside a minute. Made sure that it was wired into his biomonitor too.” Adam tapped his own biomonitor as he spoke, watching the tiny blips of his heart rate on the display on his forearm. It said he was stressed and emotional. It was right. “I kept topping it up every month. His new team never knew about it. Took a couple of potshots at the AV as it came in and got down. But Neil was lifted out and fixed up. And my Mom went nuts again. She had to be pulled off him by the hospital staff.”

“Don't blame her,” Juniper muttered the words but Adam picked them up.

“I, at least, waited until he was out of hospital before I decked him,” he smiled a little at the memory.

Juniper scooted away a little and Adam shook his head, “What can I say? I was scared that they were going to run out of money and turf him, but I had to be the strong one, the one to tell Mom that everything was going to be okay. I was twenty years old and losing my little brother because he tagged himself onto a group of idiots.” He huffed a laugh, “He got a black eye and I got grounded.”

“...weren't you 20?” Juniper asked, a little confused.

“Yeah, I was but well...” he shrugged, “My mom was never one to let something like age get in her way.”

Just the very corner of Juniper’s mouth twitched up, but it made all the difference to his face. It made him look less a cynical teenager and more like the twenty-something data-runner that Minx said he was and Adam kinda liked it. But he brushed that aside. He needed to get through this.

“Anyway, my Mom and I talked and we decided that if we didn't want Neil out on the streets, that we'd have to find something for him to do. So I enrolled him in Community College and between us we guilt tripped him into going.”

“Did it work?” asked Juniper.

“Yeah, we got him in there. Just about. But he took to it, actually started to like it. But then it was time to graduate and the deal we’d made with him only lasted that long. Get in, earn a qualification and then he could do what he wanted,” Adam tapped the side of the coffee cup in his hands, and then ran his finger around the rim, “Between my mom and me, we worked out something to keep him off the streets.”

“What'd he graduate in?”

“Business with a minor in Corp Law,” Adam answered.

He still had the certificate somewhere, tucked away in a box at the back of the closet.

“Cool.”

“See, we figured that if we could get him signed on with a corp that he'd be set,” he explained, “A good pay check. A nine to five. Throw in the girl he met when doing the course and everything was good. Or so we thought. Turned out that he remembered the deal better that I did. Get a qualification and then you can do what you want. So he started talking about joining a dojo and getting back in shape. He'd already bought the hardware and everything.”

“...you wanted him to go corp?” Juniper asked, his voice turning slightly cold.

Adam shook his head, “I wanted him alive. Corp just seemed the best way to do that.”

At the time it had seemed the perfect solution. Corp was the way to go. Good jobs, good prospects and if you did well, the possibilities were endless. Neil had taken some convincing though. He didn’t really want to be out of his brother’s shadow, didn’t really want to work in a cubical farm, slogging away until it was time to get on the train to go home, packed in with so many sardines in a tin can. He wanted excitement and adventure and life and death all around him. But Adam had talked him round, had almost blackmailed him into agreeing to at least try it.

Adam forced himself to control his voice, “There was an ex-runner who owed me a favour. He'd gone corp the year before and I figured that cashing in that favour for a job interview would get Neil on the first step of the corporate ladder.”

Juniper bristled beside him, and Adam could see that he’d put some distance between them. Adam could guess that he wasn’t exactly a fan of the big corporations that practically ran this and every other major city. Adam didn’t like them much either. Not anymore.

He could feel the itch of tears and knew that he needed to control himself. But knowing and doing were two different things.

He looked up at Juniper and then looked down again, “I really wish I'd never done that. Bastard was working his own angle all the time. Corporate espionage. Selling trade secrets to the highest bidder. And when corporate security started noticing, the bastard put all the blame on Neil, the ex-street runner.”

Adam’s fists clenched and unclenched and the coffee cup fell to the ground shredded. Coffee splashed up on his armoured pants but he didn’t notice. All he could see in front of him was that bastard’s smirking face.

“...sounds like a proper suit,” Juniper broke the silence and dragged Adam back to the empty street where they both sat, “What happened next?”

Adam huffed a bitter laugh, “You have to ask? The corp put a contract out on my baby brother.”

“Which corp?”

“ _InterNexx_ ,” Adam answered, “Not sure you would have heard of them. It got blown to hell about six years ago. Terrorist attack, or so they claim.”

He couldn’t hold back the vicious smile as he remembered the sky glowing orange that night. Fire crews from twenty different stations drove in and what had to be the entire San Diego police force. Adam had toasted the flames with a stolen bottle of champagne and gotten so drunk that night that it was a wonder he’d lived.

Juniper’s brows furrowed, “...their contracts were usually friends-and-family.”

Adam nodded, “Yeah, usually. This one wasn't any different.” He sighed, letting the memory fade again, “I thought I got them all. But I was wrong. Turns out that the ex-runner suit was finishing his deal, collecting his money. So he wasn't there when the whole place blew. A lucky escape.”

“Huh.”

That sound again. Like Juniper was playing at putting together all these invisible jig saw pieces that only he could see, and Adam wasn’t sure that he wanted to be a puzzle.

He took a breath, and then another, “That's why I have to take this job,” he explained, “It's the last piece of _InterNexx_.”

Adam saw lights twinkle behind the lenses of the goggles that the runner wore and just knew that he was pulling down information, slotting that last piece into place. Adam had given him all the damned clues and he trusted that Juniper was smart enough to put them all together.

It took a minute before, “Dillinger?”

It was a question, but Adam had to give it to him for working it out, “Yeah, that smiling corporate monkey.” He shook his head, “You'd never know he ever worked runs like the rest of us. Three thousand buck suits. Cut him and I'm fairly sure he'd bleed red tape. But that's him. That's the bastard that framed my brother and had him killed. And my mom. I want him!”

“He's not exactly hard to find,” Juniper pointed out.

Adam’s smile was cold when he looked up at the data runner, “Oh, I know I could kill him but after all this time, that's not enough. I want to destroy him. And this job, it gives me that chance.”

Juniper looked confused.

Adam turned in his seat until his entire body faced the smaller man. The datarunner looked to be eyeing his escape routes which was seriously not what Adam wanted right now. He held up his hands apologetically. Juniper relaxed fractionally and Adam continued.

“I've tracked him since he left _InterNexx_. He bounced to the other side of the country and started working jobs there. Climbed up the ladder, from corporation to corporation. And now he's back in my city and he was stupid enough to throw down an ultimatum in front of the press and every ganger and runner out there,” Adam ran a hand through his hair, “He thinks he's invincible. But he's not. One way or another, I'm going to thrash his reputation and make him the corporate world's most undesirable. I'm going to make sure that they blame him for everything and hunt him down like they did my family.” Adam stopped, and took a breath, reigning back in the anger that he was feeling, and the excitement, “And then? Then, I'm going to take the contract to end him.”

Juniper didn’t say anything for a long time, and Adam was starting to get nervous. Maybe this whole total honesty thing was a step too far. Maybe this was the part where Juniper got up and walked across the street and bolted his door. Adam bit his lip to keep quiet.

It was almost a relief when Juniper spoke, “...you've put a lot of thought into this.”

Adam nodded, “And resources. I've pulled up floor plans, security rosters, corporate information. Everything available on _Trojan_ legally and illegally,” he paused, “There's only one thing missing...”

Juniper looked doubtful at the claim and downright dubious about Adam’s last statement but Adam didn’t let that stop him.

“You!” he said quietly, pointing at the data runner, “You're the best runner in the city according to my sources and the only one capable of breaking the _Nebula_.”

“...source _s_?” Juniper asked and Adam had the sense to blush a little.

“Well, truthfully there's only one,” Adam admitted, coming clean, “but my fixer hasn't been able to turn up any other names.”

“There's a lot of people in this city,” Juniper pointed out.

Adam had to concede that, “True, but if she can't turn up anyone else, then there's no one else.”

“She didn't turn me up.”

Score another point for Juniper.

“No she didn't. What can I say? You're a hard man to pin down.”

The runner glanced away again with a small smile, “Almost like I planned it that way?”

“Yeah, you run cleaner that some guys who paid to be zeroed,” Adam gave him the kudos he deserved.

Juniper shrugged, “Data runners know how to sink a trail.”

“And some better than others.”

Juniper didn’t reply to that, just sort of shrugged his shoulders and drew back in on himself a little.

Adam sighed, “Okay, so I've told you why this job is so important to me. I'm not going to ask you for an answer now. But please, just say that you'll think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Juniper looked down at his coffee cup, “...okay. I'll think about it.”

“Okay then,” said Adam and he dug around in his pocket for a card wallet. It took a little manoeuvring but he pulled a black card free. It had silver flames embossed on the surface and his name printed in showy letters. He held it out to Juniper, “Here's my number. Call me any time.”

The runner stared hard at the card, lips moving as he recited the phone number a couple of times under his breath as if trying to memorize the digits but he didn’t make any move to take the card. He held up a hand as Adam tried to give it to him again, scooting around him back out onto the open street. He was about to step onto the road when he turned and looked back at Adam.

“....I'm sorry about your brother.”

Adam appreciated the sentiment but he didn’t hold out much hope that Juniper was going to have a sudden change of heart. He watched Juniper go, skirting around the bike and into the apartment block. Adam sighed. He felt raw, torn open. He’d just put his heart on his sleeve, something he never did and Juniper hadn’t even taken his card.

It was five minutes or more before he moved off the seat and over to his bike. He hadn’t slept properly since this whole thing had started, not since Crusader’s stupid recruitment tactics had left part of him splattered over a warehouse, and now, he was starting to feel every second tick by. But he couldn’t give up yet. Not yet. Not when he was so close.

He pulled the helmet on and wrestled his leg over the bike, kicking it off the kickstand and turning the key as soon as he was on board. Maybe he should go back to Allison, see if she’d been able to get any more names for him. Or failing that, empty _Idolize_ of its supply of vodka. Whichever he felt was the best option once he got there.


	8. Chapter 8

"So," Kris settled back on his heels. "What do we know about Silverfyre?"

"Adam Mitchell Lambert, son of Eber and Leila (deceased). One brother, Neil (deceased), younger," Nox rattled off. Nox was sitting on the firewall almost directly over Kris' head, his non-existent weight supported by a hand on Draghos' neck. The firewall was a passive bubble stretching out wide enough to hold Kris' ikon, Draghos and all three sub-programs. Far below, the Net seethed with brilliant sparks of light. "Educational record starts with Deer Canyon Elementary School. His highest grades were Social Studies, Music, English and Gym. He attended Mesa Verde Middle School, where he was a winner in the eighteenth Californian Airband competition-”

“Airband?” Kris asked.

Nox opened a window, showing teenagers miming playing instruments to a song that blasted through a cheap audio system. Kris blinked a few times and Nox continued “-featuring Michael Jackson's "Thriller", and Mount Carmel High School where his highest grades were Drama and Choir. He holds an MBA from the University of San Diego where he graduated magna cum laude five years ago."

“Not just a pretty face then,” Kris said absently. Chronos grinned and Nox shrugged. None of the security programs cared that much about formal education. Data-running was the cutting edge of programming and it could take years for the curriculum in colleges to catch up.

"Began running with the now defunct merc group led by V-Ice, which would achieve a success ratio in jobs of five to one." Virago picked up the thread. She was sitting back to back with Kris and the hum of power along the circuits tracing up her spine pulsed against his back, adding her rhythm to the waves of light running through his circuits. "Following the death of his brother, Silverfyre began to work almost exclusively as a solo agent."

“Any family still alive?” Kris asked, mostly because he couldn’t stop thinking of the hundred and one ways that the story could have been faked. Mercs like Silverfyre did not come looking for broken wrecks of data-runners like him. There had to be an angle here he was missing.

“He has had no contact with his father since the funeral of his mother and brother,” Virago said after a momentary pause. “But he was the legal guardian of Allison Iraheta until she reached legal adult status.”

“Relationship?” Kris hadn’t clocked Silverfyre as a creeper but he had to know one way or another.

“She was the younger sister of Dominic ‘Streek’ Iraheta who ran several jobs with Silverfyre over the course of 5.372 years and was killed on their last shared job,” Chronos reported back, irises glowing as he sorted through the records. “Silverfyre supported her financially and backed her club _Idolize_ with funds, favours called in from across the state and by performing on a demi-weekly basis. The club was originally listed in Silverfyre’s name but sold to Ms Iraheta three days after her eighteenth birthday for $1.”

“Regular white knight,” Kris sighed and leaned back into Virago. "His story checks out?"

"A Dillinger, Nathan is listed as Head of _Trojan_ ’s security. His public record is ambiguous," Nox shrugged.

"His private record?" Kris asked impatiently. Nox had always been the most energetic of the suite and he'd pushed the limits of Kris' instructions on every task Kris had set him for the last five years. If he hadn’t gone above and beyond for this...well, Kris would eat his hat.

"He was under contract for fifteen months prior to his cessation of illegal and quasi-legal work and it would be plausible to project a plan that assumes his previous crimes have been linked to his current position. _Trojan_ absorbed what was left of _InterNexx_ once the 'terrorist' angle had been debunked," Nox said. "There's no solid paper trail outside of _Trojan_ 's own data fortress-"

"-which you wouldn't have gone near without telling me, right?" Kris leaned back and watched Nox fidget.

"We did an overview," Chronos interjected. "Using the search-spider algorithm. They've been getting searched for kilo-cycles by every data-runner in the city. They never noticed us against that much static. We didn't look for anything that would have raised red flags, I promise."

"There's almost nothing on the Vortex's security on the net," Kris rubbed his eyes. "It might have smart ICE. Your protocols are old and probably ridiculously out of date! You could have been tagged as hostile!"

"We weren't," Nox said contemptuously. "The security systems are passive. We got that for certain and we let them brush us off."

That had clearly stung Nox's pride, a sullen reddish-purple leaking through from his status panel through his circuits. Kris had spent months refining Nox's search and assessment algorithms and he was probably the best search sub-program Kris could have created.

"As I was saying," Nox continued, shaking off the irritation. "The paper trail isn't complete but the time-lines and some payments from Johnson Orton, _Trojan_ 's chief handler are certainly suggestive."

"Still, that's not proof. Could Neil Lambert have been responsible for the data-leaks that he was killed for?" Kris asked.

"No." All three sub-programs said flatly.

"His connections to the illegal merc markets were heavily dependent on his brother," Chronos said, bringing up a complicated spider-web of a graph that listed at least two in three of the better fixers. There was a visible bottleneck around the dot labelled 'Silverfyre' and Kris guessed at least eighty percent of the graph was connected to the 'Neil Lambert' dot through it. "Specifically, the closest degree of separation I can achieve between Neil Lambert and the fixer who ultimately sold the information on to rival corporations is nine steps."

"Financial records indicate that Neil Lambert was living within his means," Virago picked up the thread seamlessly. "There were two additional accounts, probably the seeds of a new life fund and one that seems to have been emergency funds from his brother. There was no other record of financial transactions."

"No cred-chips?" Kris mused. "Most fixers don't like paper-trails."

"None listed in the inventory of his belongings," Virago said immediately. "And no records to suggest that the execution squad stole any such chips in their spending patterns following the execution. At least one was in debt to the Triad to the tune of several hundred thousand creds. His body was recovered three weeks after the execution. If there had been cred-chips in the apartment from a deal as lucrative as the corporate investigation suggested, he would have been able to pay the debts and would not have become a casualty in the gang-wars."

"Could Lambert have passed the money to his mother or brother?" Kris asked. He couldn't imagine Silverfyre letting his brother be murdered by corporate thugs for money but he'd been wrong before. Human life wasn't a particularly valuable commodity in the corporate world.

"No," Chronos repeated the financial information, tracing out the complicated network of financial dealings around Silverfyre in a 3D scatter-graph. "His financial situation seems to have been as stable as possible for a street merc. He was taking slightly more work for slightly higher payouts which would be consistent with his story. Silverfyre referred to the medical costs and his brother's medical history suggests a net total of more than eight hundred thousand in hospital costs. It is probable - and consistent with his records - that Silverfyre was working so diligently to replenish his emergency medical coverage. His brother wanted to go back on the streets, suggesting an increase in risk."

"Plus," Nox added as Kris drummed his fingers thoughtfully on his thigh. "The records that I recovered are incomplete but Neil Lambert was certainly a new employee, hired straight out of third level education. It doesn't make sense that he would have access to the information needed. Corps don't trust people unless they own them."

"True," Kris conceded. "So, Silverfyre was telling the truth?"

Draghos rumbled and his dialog box opened just to Kris' left. "`HISTORICAL RECORDS MATCH. FINANCIAL SITUATION MATCHES. BIO-MONITOR READINGS PARSE AS TRUTHFUL.`"

"Bio-monitor?" Kris asked.

"Silverfyre has an active '‘Med-E-Vac’ account linked to his bio-monitor-" Nox started.

"Standard deadman's switch configuration," Chronos interrupted. "His vital signs fluctuate beyond a pre-set range and they'll have a full AV team on the scene inside ninety seconds."

"-which we all knew," Nox pointed out. "We've kept a trace on all the local network hubs and routers and his signal relayed through several of them, so the Boss," he nodded to Draghos who was pulsing amber in satisfaction. "Copied the feed and ran the data through the polygraph filters."

"Right," Kris said, a little stunned. "Okay. Good thinking."

"Why is it so important to know if Silverfyre is telling the truth?" Virago asked, leaning around to look curiously at Kris.

"Because I need to know if he's trustworthy," Kris said, breathing in from sheer force of habit. 'Air' in the Net was an empty space that could be filled with data.

"His merc career scores highly along the metrics of job-completion, customer satisfaction and team cohesion," Chronos said, eyes blurring momentarily as he ran the numbers. "His reputation is as a competent, somewhat flamboyant worker willing to work hard."

"Why?" Nox echoed. "Silverfyre is not a data-runner. We aren't likely to meet him again."

"We might," Kris said awkwardly. "And I need you three to do the preliminary research for me."

Virago's warm weight disappeared from behind him and all three of the security programs lined up against the firewall, raptly attentive. Kris rolled up to his feet, leaning into Draghos' neck as they watched him with eager eyes and three absolutely rubbish poker faces. He was going to have to work on their visual algorithms if he ever got the chance.

"I need to know everything the Net knows about _Trojan_ ," Kris said carefully. "And _Nebula_ and the Vortex."

"Parameters set!" All three of them chirruped in unison.

Draghos rumbled dubiously, his dialog box refreshing. "`YOU INTEND TO TAKE THE JOB?`"

"I might not have a choice," Kris admitted. "That's why I need to know if it's possible."

"Initial analysis," Nox said carefully. "Suggest that this may be beyond Juniper's capabilities."

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Kris said firmly. "Get going. I need that information before I can make my decision."

They nodded and disintegrated into glowing nebulae of swirling code as they passed through the firewall. Kris sat back down, Draghos' side smooth and cool against his back. Kris tipped his head back and sighed. He called up the clock program and winced at the time. He hadn’t slept for nearly two days and he had a lot to get done before he could finally fall over and just sleep.

"Full privacy settings. Green-two, please, Draghos?"

Draghos rumbled, shifting so he was curled around Kris, wings folding down and blocking out the lights of the Net. Kris booted the remote-dialling program and tapped in Drew's number. Drew answered on the second ring.

"Juniper! What can I do for you?"

"Hey man," Kris smiled and leaned back into Draghos' awkward angles. "You got my message?"

"I did and yeah, the number's legit," Drew sounded cranky. "Mind telling me why you wanted a check on the number of some flash in the pan merc who won't take no for an answer."

"I'm taking the job," Kris said.

"You WHAT?" Drew all but screamed down the line. "Have you lost your unstable, spider-cracked MIND!?"

"Drew-"

"No, seriously, I want to know. Did he threaten you? Drug you? I'm going to put a bounty on his fucking ass-"

"DREW!" Kris shouted. There was a long moment of silence and Kris sighed. "I don't have a choice."

"What's he done?" Drew's tone promised pain and screaming in Silverfyre's immediate future.

"It's not him," Kris pinched the bridge of his nose hard. "I can't stay in the Gauntlet. Momma just finished telling me that there have been more mercs sniffing around for me. I’m not a blooded Zombie and I can’t afford to keep paying extra protection money.”

“I could-”

“No,” Kris said flatly.

Drew’s aggravated sigh sounded too loud in his ear and Kris waited for a second before he carried on. Drew had been one of his best friends for nearly nine years and knew the worst and best of him. He was also the walking, talking stereotype of a mama grizzly and Kris wasn’t going to let him do something stupid just because Kris had fucked up.

 _Story of my life,_ Kris thought with a bitter grin.

“I know you mean well, man,” he started honestly. “But I left those funds untapped for a reason. If _Nebula_ _have_ them flagged...”

“They haven’t done anything for five years,” Drew argued.

“Because nothing changed for five years,” Kris snapped back. “Look, I talked to Silverfyre a few hours ago and the guys did some digging in his background. He’s not just in this job for the money. He’s got a personal stake in this and he’s going to do this job if he has to do it with a code-jockey fresh out of high school.”

“So?” Drew snorted. “Let him get his ass blown to fuck.”

“I can’t,” Kris closed his eyes. “Drew, you know I don’t know how much of Choppah’s files survived the virus. _Nebula_ could know everything he did.”

“I know,” Drew growled. “I’ve spent five years trying to figure out how much they still had, remember?”

“So what happens,” Kris interrupted. “If Silverfyre and his new runner get burned? How much does _Nebula_ have riding on this deal? Silverfyre will get close enough to rattle them and they’ll go back through his recent past. It’s already all over the merc circles that he came looking for me, you don’t even need to bribe anyone to find that out and if he could find me, they’ll find me.”

Drew was dead silent and Kris looked down at his hands. Light was flaring in jagged patterns around the circuit designs of his ikon. “The only way I can stop that is to get them before they can get me.”

Another long pause and Drew sighed. “All right. But we’re doing this properly, you hear? At least three test jobs against safe targets before we commit to anything. If this guy’s got a problem, I want to know about it before the main run.”

“Works for me,” Kris said honestly and Drew muttered something before hanging up. Draghos deleted the phone log and rerouted legit traffic back through the router while Kris rested his head against the security program’s flank and tried to believe that he’d done the right thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Adam’s head was fit to split, just crack down the centre and spill everything over the faux marble table. Allison wasn’t helping matters at all. It was just the two of them in _Idolize_ , going over the rosters and orders, tracking invoices and getting accounts in order, and Allison making it her morning’s work to make Adam feel every drop of vodka that he’d drunk last night by pumping up the base and running through a sound check at what felt like full volume. It was her idea of payback for dodging her calls and making her worry. He’d come back just in time for the evening shift and just grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose and a table in the back, and slowly drained it dry.

Allison must have been told that he was there because she'd made her way over and hit him just after he hit the bottom of the label. She’d slowly dragged the story out of him over the next glass and asked security to see him upstairs to her apartment as he finished the bottle. She promised to keep looking for data runners, or at least, he thought that was what she’d said, but honestly everything after that was a blur until he’d woken up this morning with a mouthful of pillow and no idea where he was. Turned out that his little sister had a wicked sense of humour and left him to sober up in the bathtub. Even now, he could still feel the stiffness in every single muscle. Everything ached and all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, drag the covers over himself and sleep.

His hangover might have been how he missed the two times that his phone rang. And when it rang the third time, it took him a second to pull the phone out from the depths of his pocket and glare at the display. It took him another second to read the name on the display: Narnian Embassy and yet another second to try to work out if he knew anyone who worked there before his brain clicked into place and he realised that it must be some data runner’s idea of a joke. That one thought brought him snapping back to reality. He keyed in the override on the privacy field and watched it settle into place around him, killing the music dead in a three foot bubble around him as he answered the phone.

“You’ve got Silverfyre.”

“He says yes.”

The voice was male, deep, but abrupt and almost pissed off and Adam struggled to bite back the first three comments that came to mind and settled for a simple, “Who?”

There was a pause, “This is Silverfyre, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Adam answered, frowning. He needed to be sure, “Who says yes?”

“How many data-runners have you been stalking this last week?” the voice replied, and Adam could almost hear the guy biting back the urge to call him a damned fool, or worse.

“Juniper?” Adam could barely believe he was hearing this, “He’s in?”

“Yes,” the voice answered slowly, and the guy probably thought that Adam was dragging his mental feet a little but honestly, Adam couldn’t believe that he was hearing this. Juniper was in. He was going to do it and Adam was starting to have a good feeling about this run.

“Okay then. Good,” it was all Adam could do from breaking out in song and dancing up and down the club, “So how should I get in contact with him?”

There was another pause and finally the answer came, “Meet-up first to clarify what exactly you’re looking for. You can set that up through me. He decides that you’re not all hot air and sparkles, he’ll give you a number.”

Adam took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down, “Okay, you got a name? Or a contact number?”

Adam patted furiously at his pockets, trying to find something, anything to write down the number, but his pockets were empty. His eyes caught on the interface to the privacy screen and the code panel. That would do until he could transfer it into his phone. His finger hovered over the keypad, ready to type.

“I’m Drew,” the voice, Drew, said, “I’m his fixer.” There was a pause, and Adam’s finger twitched as he waited, “And fuck it, I’ll call your fixer. You sound like you’re gargling the night before.”

Adam didn’t even try to deny it, but his mood took a dive downwards. He couldn’t lose Juniper now. Not now that he had a _chance_. Not because he’d decided to drown everything at the bottom of a vodka bottle. He bit back a curse, but pushed through, “Okay, my fixer is Firecracker. You can reach her at 555-2824.”

“Right,” Drew said and all that was left was the dial tone.

“Shit,” Adam clicked his phone closed and sat back in his seat.

The good mood that he’d just felt had shrunk down to settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. He’d seen it before, hell, he’d done it before; broken up teams, fired runners before runs because they’d partied too heavily the night before and not been fit to string two words together. What a stupid time to give into the urge to drink… Last night, he’d dived straight into the bottle to drown the too-painful memories, to sink the feeling of despair that he’d had when Juniper had walked away without even taking his business card, and now he might have blown the whole damned job because of it.

He tapped the phone against the tabletop and considered his options, few though they were. He didn’t doubt that Juniper’s fixer was on the phone to him right now trying to tell him that this whole thing was a bad idea. He had to do something, explain it somehow but damned if he was about to call Drew back and try to plead his case to him. He’d do any explaining that he had to do to Juniper himself. He sighed and turned off the privacy screen. The screen sparkled and died and a wall of sound assaulted him. Adam winced and hefted himself out of the seat and walked over to the stage.

It didn’t take him a minute to find the controls and turn down the cacophony of bad base and lousy electronic beats. He wasn’t sure where Allison had gotten it, but wherever it was, he was going to have to make sure that she never went back there. _Idolize_ had standards and _this_ was below basement level. Switching playlists, he actually relaxed as classic rock started to pump through the speakers.

Allison was in the back doing a stock check when he found her, cursing up a storm as she tried to figure out where people had stacked the liquor and why they were mixed in with the bar snacks. She looked almost comical as she hefted a box this way and that, trying to look under it. Adam stepped in and grabbed the box from her, putting it to the side.

“Feeling better?” Allison asked, eyebrow quirking up, “You looked like death this morning.”

Adam scrubbed a hand over his face, hiding the guilty look, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m sure I don’t gotta tell you that if you pull that sh…”

Adam cut her off, “I got a phone call from Juniper’s fixer. He’s in.”

Allison gaped at him, mouth open, “He’s in? Like really in? But I thought you said…”

“Yeah,” he signed, “Yeah, I didn’t think he’d call. Drew, that’s the fixer's name, is gonna call you to set up a meet. Can you schedule something? Usual provisions, usual black list. And let’s try to stay away from the Gauntlet. I’m fairly sure that I’ve worn out whatever welcome I had there.”

“You mean they’re gonna stop aiming at the tires and go for the rider next time,” Allison smirked, “Told you that it was a bad idea going in there.” She stopped, chewing on her lip for a second, “Actually, steering clear of the area isn’t a bad idea. There’s word on the street that something bad went down there a couple of days ago.”

Adam frowned, “The gang fights? Didn’t hear that anyone overstepped the bounds.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Well, they don’t think so. It’s not the sort of…” she paused and took a deep breath, “couple of the youngsters – not blooded yet, not old enough – got killed and it was… If the rumours are right, well, it was brutal bordering on torture. The matriarchs aren’t happy. Gauntlet’s unofficially closed to visitors and I’m not sure when, or if, it’s gonna be safe to go back in, Adam. Be careful if you gotta, okay?”

Adam pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple, “I will, baby girl. I’ll steer clear unless I need to. I promise.”

“You better,” she poked him painfully in the chest.

Adam winced and hugged her tighter, making her eep and smack him.

“You wanna go up to your office and check to see if he’s called yet?” Adam asked, “I can stay down here and finish off, if you’d like.”

Allison tapped the phone on her hip, “Much as I’d like to, I don’t have to. Got a redirect on. Anyone calls the phone upstairs, I’ll get it here. But I’m not going to turn down the offer either. How about I start at A and you start at Z and we meet in the middle?”

She handed off the bottom half of her list and Adam looked it over, glancing at her list and then back at his half, “You’re already down to D. That’s just cheating.”

Allison smirked up at him, “Gotta be some perks for being the boss. And anyway, it’s not like it’s going to be easy either way. Looks like Carlos was the last one to take a delivery and there must not have been any hot delivery men this time because it’s looking like he told them to stack the boxes anywhere they could find room and just wandered off. I’ve got shit here that I never ordered.”

Adam shook his head, and smiled, “Better get started then.”

 

It was about two hours later when Allison stepped out to take the phone call from Drew. Adam waited impatiently, trying to concentrate on how many bottles of Tequila came in a case but his mind was up there with Allison and it was tough to do anything but hope that this wasn’t the call to cancel.

“All done,” Allison announced as she re-entered the room.

Adam slumped down to sit on the box that he must have counted about ten times. It was done. They were going to meet, professionally, to discuss the job and what was needed. His shoulders seemed lighter. Finally, the light at the other end of the tunnel was starting to look as if it wasn’t the subway coming to run him over.

“But, we’ve agreed that the two of you are going to run a few orientation jobs to make sure the whole thing works. And don’t you look at me like that, Adam, you don’t know this guy. For all you know, there’s a very good reason that he doesn’t go on runs,” she held up her hands as Adam tried to say something, and he closed his mouth, “I can’t talk you out of this run. God knows, I’ve tried, but the least I can do is make sure that the first run you do isn’t against the Fort Knox of security systems. And well, to say that Drew was less than impressed with your mental capacities on the phone, it was either this or he’d have talked to Juniper and told him that this was a bad idea. Hell, I’m not sure that he isn’t going to do that anyway. He seemed even less convinced about this run than I am, and you know how I feel about it.”

“Yeah,” Adam smiled, “I think you might have told me a time or two.”

“So, yeah, myself and Drew are going to pick some jobs for you both and then you can discuss it between the two of you and pick which run to go on,” Allison turned serious, crowding into Adam’s personal space and glaring down at him where he sat on the liquor box. “If you see him doing anything that’s going to get you fragged… If you see him doing anything that’s going to leave you with your ass in the wind, you extract as soon as you are able. Call me. I’ll have your back for this. Anything you need, you just call and I’ll make sure that you get out. I’ll have a backup team of runners available. I’ve got a couple of other data runners that I can call. They may not be good enough for the main job but they’ll get you anything you need on any other damned run, you hear me? You’re coming back in one damned piece and screw anyone else.”

Adam saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes and pulled her close. He’d driven her close to the edge for the last week and he hadn’t even thought that this had to be raising memories of her brother and his last run. He pulled her close and hugged her tightly.

“Anything goes wrong and I’m out of there,” Adam promised. “Anything. I promise.”

“You’d better!” she sniffled a little and Adam tightened his hold on her.

“So where am I meeting Juniper?”

“Got you a meet in a club not too far away. Little place called _Hype_. It’s a little closer to the Gauntlet than I’d like,” she shrugged, “But, it’s not too bad. We’re suggesting the first job. Got a few runs that I think would fit the bill. Deal is that you pull three and bring them along. Juniper gets the final say on which one you pick.” She paused, “Would you take a word of advice?”

Adam nodded, “Course.”

“Use it as a test. Pick something a heck of a lot easier than your usual job, something midrange and something hard.”

Adam was a little lost, “I’m assuming that there’s supposed to be some hidden meaning behind the jobs that I pick?”

Allison stepped back and gave him a look that made him feel about five years old again, “Well, duh.” She sighed and explained, “If he goes for the easy one then he’s nervous as hell about the whole thing and it’s going to take you a lot of work to whip his scrawny butt into shape.”

Adam smirked, “His ass isn’t that scrawny. Pert. Yeah, pert might be a better word for it. You know when you get past the usual data runner scruff.”

Allison raised an eyebrow and gave him a considering look, “If this is some way to tell me that you’re considering making him a notch on your bedpost, please spare me the details,” she stopped, “Is he cute?”

“Think so. He was wearing goggles every time I saw him but there’s definitely something to work with,” Adam smiled as he thought of the other man.

Shaking her head, Allison continued, “As I was saying. If he goes for the easy job, you’re going to have your work cut out. If he goes for the hard job, then he’s probably going to be playing to his ego or trying to keep up with you. And you know that’s going to be trouble. It doesn’t really matter what the reason is, if he picks that one, you’re just asking someone to come along and kick your ass. If he goes for the middle of the road run, then, well, I’d consider that a win. He thinks he’s good but needs to get his head back in the game.”

Adam considered that for a second. He just couldn't put ego and Juniper together in one thought. The bunched up shoulders, the way he tried to disappear even when you were looking at him, the quick wit and sarcastic comebacks, there was a runner in there, even if it was too scared to come out. He was confident that Juniper would pick the middle of the road job but disagreed with Allison’s assessment of what it meant if he went for the easy job.

Juniper’d been out of the game for at least five years and the way he was acting, it had to have been something fairly big to knock him out of the running world. Adam thought that Juniper might be planning to ease his way back in, test the limits of what Adam could and would do during a run, make sure that he was trustworthy before committing to do more than just a simple in and out. He didn’t like mercs. He’d made that crystal clear but he was still taking the job. There had to be a reason for that and that was something Adam could work with.

“Oh, and you’re meeting at 6pm. While it’s still nice and quiet,” Allison added, picking her list back up and going back to counting bottles.

Adam checked his chronometer. It was just after half two. Adam blanched.

“I gotta go home and change, go over the jobs you’ve picked out…”

“Jeez, Adam, it’s not a date. Relax!”

Adam glared at her, “You said you’ve got a few jobs you can pull for us?”

“Calm down. Go upstairs, shower, change your clothes and I’ll pull the jobs,” Allison pushed him towards the door, “Do whatever you do to get yourself all Silverfyred up and outta my hair and I’ll sort the rest.”

“You’re awesome!” Adam kissed her cheek.

“I know, now scoot!”


	10. Chapter 10

Kris was woken by the distinctive crump-whoosh of a car exploding. The flare of the explosion painted jagged shadows across the wall of his apartment and Kris rolled over. He couldn't remember his dreams but his eyes were sandy and his shirt was sticking to his back as he rolled out of bed. Thin grey light filtered through the pollution layer of the atmosphere and Kris pulled off his t-shirt.

The shower in this apartment hadn't worked ever. Thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on Kris' mood) Kris lived in the future and there were ways around that. Insta-Showah, also known more accurately as a shower in a can, was a crude, chemical way to get rid of the sweat and grime but it worked and most of the cred store and supermarts sold it in packs of twenty for fifteen creds.

Back when Kris still cared, Katy used to talk about how chemical cleansers were bad for the skin. Stripping the outer layers of the skin keeps you from stinking but it isn't really hygienic. Kris' phone beeped as he finished towelling off with a text from Drew offering to put a four figure bounty on Silverfyre's head if Kris wanted to reconsider taking the job. Kris frowned at his phone. If Drew was having second thoughts about Silverfyre...

Another beep, this time an update from Draghos. "Subject: LAMBERT, A 'Silverfyre. Biological monitoring suggests current blood alcohol level has decreased 83% over the previous hour. Artificial enzymes are running to purge alcohol from system. Acetic acid build-up is consistent with vodka consumption in excess of 1400ml within a twenty four hour window. Cardio-rhythm remains mostly stable with minor deviations within the period he was contacted by DREW. All cyberware is up-to-date and no firmware upgrades are required for a minimum of one (1) week"

Kris glowered at his phone. "You are supposed to be a security program. Not a stalking program!"

The phone didn't beep again and Kris went looking for breakfast. He didn't have much, it had been a week since he'd risked a run to the over-priced grocery stores on the fringes of the Gauntlet and Kris needed every cent if he was going to find somewhere else to crash until the job was done. Staying in the ganglands was too risky, he was associated with the Zombies and there wasn't a gang in the state that hadn't lost some of their people to the Walking Dead.

"God, what a mess," Kris looked around the apartment, already thinking about what to take and what to leave. He didn't technically need much; his deck, his tool kit, a few creased photos and some clothes. His whole life could be fitted into a backpack with room for a bottle of water and some sandwiches. How depressing was that?

His phone beeped: Drew again, this time with the details of a preliminary meet up with Silverfyre to discuss the job.

' _I know_ Hype _is outside your comfort zone,_ ' Drew's message read. ' _But I know the people and it's the best I can manage. You haven't committed to anything, remember. If you have **any** concerns about Silverfyre or his ability to do the job, tell me and we'll call it._ '

Kris smiled despite himself. Drew really was a mother-hen of the highest order. He'd kill Silverfyre in person if anything happened to Kris. He tapped out a quick promise not to commit unless he was sure and plugged in to find out where exactly _Hype_ was. Bars and clubs in the ganglands rarely lasted more than a few months before the regulars tore it up or the police raided it with anti-personnel grenades. Most would be open again a few weeks later 'under new management', usually the same person or their next of kin because the only thing worse than a hung over ganger was a stone-cold sober ganger.

Draghos had already set Nox to secure the vid-feeds from the public cameras along the street and Virago was cracking the club's security while Chronos uploaded a mostly docile trojan into any security systems within a block of Kris' route. The trojan was called Ninja, a homebrew version of the more common 'Ghost' program that Kris had recoded with some help from Root back in the old days.

An active Ghost would clear an individual's image from a live feed as it was transmitted but the code was clunky and prone to missing frames. Anyone watching the altered feed would see a transparent and mostly unrecognizable figure where the target was, hence the name.

'Ninja' not only scrubbed the image from every frame and shot as the camera transmitted, it deleted any bio-data and in a high-camera area, would alter the images of those around the target so they didn't seem to be talking to thin air. The program popped up online as a two-dimensional cartoon ninja in black who was effectively impossible to see side on.

Kris plotted the route, checking through the police department's live feeds to track the latest brawls and work out any necessary diversions. He changed the network and the phone ID for his phone three times, test-ringing the line and recording a monotone synthetic greeting for his voicemail. He checked prices on the local motels for a long-term stay and set up some background data-checking on public transport.

Draghos cleared his throat after an hour of this and his dialog box popped up right in front of Kris' visual input. "`YOU WILL BE LATE FOR YOUR MEETING IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE WITHIN 00:00:05:23:2345012 MINUTES.`"

Kris swore and disconnected in a wave of last second instructions. The noise outside was building as the evening fights started and Kris listened carefully. Mostly to the west, which meant the Lockdowns, a biker gang with a habit for the hallucinogenics. Tough as their old boots and savage, the Lockdowns would keep most of the Zombies occupied and the RaZZorZ and Legion would be too busy watching them to bother Kris for at least a few hours. That should leave plenty of time to get to Hype and back.

Kris snapped his wrist comp around his wrist. It had enough memory to let him plug in via a bare-bones interface, run the security suite's interface and keep a few notes. It wasn't a proper deck but it was a hundred times more discreet. He also took his deck and his toolkit, just in case the Gauntlet exploded while he's out and shoved his goggles into his bag as he was hurrying out the door. The wrist comp would take a few minutes to charge from the kinetic energy of Kris' arm but security suite would keep him updated by phone if necessary, leaving Kris the whole long walk over to freak out about what he'd getting ready to do.

 _Hype_ turned out to be an old bar, open plan with booths along the back wall and a discreet sign advertising _Fortress_ personnel privacy fields. The brickwork was thick with grime and the pavement outside was littered with cigarette butts. The small windows looked to be bullet-proof, judging by the round scars that had turned them mostly opaque. The tags on the door were a mix of most of the more notorious gangs in the area, advising those in the know that _Hype_ had paid its protection dues and was considered a neutral ground.

Inside it was mostly dingy grey, looking rundown and faded with the overhead lights on. There were some kids, girls with low-cut tops and boys with cans in their hands and some grey-haired guys in overalls with 'City Construction' stenciled on the back. Kris looked around for the tell-tale silver flames, thinking that Silverfyre should stand out like a neon sign here.

He didn't see the merc at all and the rich smell of freshly brewed _real_ coffee was floating from behind the bar. Another look around showed no sign of Silverfyre and Kris shrugged and joined the queue at the bar, mentally calculating how large a coffee he could afford. He was a little early by the clock hanging behind the bar.

He was looking at the booths in the back when the bartender slid a note across the sticky counter. An actual note, written on a napkin. Kris poked it, a little bewildered. He didn't think he's ever seen an actual note before. The note was written in a sloppy crayon-style scrawl. ' _At the back, third booth on the left of the staff door – SF_ '

Kris startled, looking up and around, and wished his goggles weren't in the bottom of his bag. He felt exposed without them. He was a long way from familiar ground and his eyes flicked from patron to patron, noting the unfamiliar colors. There wasn't much of crowd but all the booths looked to be occupied. Kris edged through the crowd, keeping one hand on his bag as he made his way back to the third booth. Silverfyre at least had the courtesy to give decent directions.

 _Assuming it_ is _Silverfyre_ , Kris thought. He couldn't imagine Drew setting him up but his mind latched onto worst case scenarios. Paranoia had kept him alive this long and he looked over his shoulder to check his escape routes were clear.

Silverfyre was sitting at the back of the booth, one arm hooked over the back of the seat. He had a half-empty cup in front of him and the candlelight-effect from the table's console softened the lines of his face and made the blue in his eyes look inhumanly bright. He was wearing leather, the heavy armored coat he'd worn the last time Kris saw him folded on the chair beside him and Kris' eyes wandered along the lines of the formfitting armor. The silver flame pattern was muted; probably illuminating micro-threads that could be switched off. Another expensive customization and Kris mentally doubled his estimate of the merc's annual income. Silverfyre clearly worked to keep in shape and he looked utterly comfortable in his own skin. The merc looked casual, relaxed and Kris had to look hard before he spotted the gun tucked into a holster under his coat. Silverfyre was perfectly positioned; able to see all three doors and the flow of people across the floor.

"Juniper. Hey," Silverfyre waved, smiling lazily as Kris skirted around a knot of grey-haired old gangers with faded and stained colors. Kris lifted his coffee cup in a half-ass kinda response and scooted around to take the seat opposite. He had a clear line to the staff door and the plans Draghos had uploaded to his wrist comp showed a straight run to the back door. Kris looked over Silverfyre's shoulder, checking the door wasn't locked and when he turned back, Silverfyre was watching him. The blue eyes were intense and Kris shivered. He wasn't used to anyone paying so much attention to him even if Silverfyre was really looking at the paycheck that Kris was going to score him.

"Good to see you," Silverfyre said with a smile that made Kris' stomach squirm. "Gotta say I'm surprised though.

"Surprised?" Kris asked, frowning a little. They'd set up a meet and Kris was here. What was surprising about that?

"Didn't think you were gonna call," Silverfyre clarified, lifting a shoulder in a feline shrug.

"Oh," Kris blinked. "That."

"Yeah, when you didn't take the card..." Silverfyre trailed off and shrugged again. "Gotta say, I kinda hit a low after that."

"I memorized your number," Kris pointed out. Had Silverfyre ever actually worked with a _real_ data-runner aside from Minx? "Cards are too risky; you can fit any number of passive RFID tags into the average card. Some of those tags trigger if you plug in and can mess you up."

"You're really a data runner, aren't you? I never thought of that," Silverfyre laughed a little and leaned forward, eyes still on Kris. “Look, I wanna get this out in the open right at the start. I hit the bar hard last night. What I did yesterday... I don't do that. I try not to think of that period of my life. It's too hard. And well... When your fixer called-" Silverfyre sighed and Kris looked away, fidgeting a little with the strap of his bag. "I don't make a habit of it. And I don't do it while planning a job. I just wanted to tell you up front."

Kris looked up. Silverfyre certainly looked sincere. "So that was why Drew was telling me I could walk. Huh."

"Probably," Silverfyre admitted with a flash of white teeth and that smile. "And I don't blame him. I was still rough when he called. But I slapped a patch and I'm good now."

"What you do in your free time is your business," Kris shrugged, meeting Silverfyre's eyes easily. "If you show up with a liter and a half of vodka in you for a job, especially that job, I'm out. Other than that...well, not my business, yeah?"

"I wouldn't," Silverfyre insisted like Kris' opinion mattered.

Kris ducked his head and looked away. He'd heard that line before. The silence stretched out for a minute. Silverfyre seemed to be trying to stare a hole through him but Kris kept his eyes on the patrons around the bar.

"Yeah," Silverfyre said at last. "I realize you don't know me or how I work, but that's why we're here, right? Get to know you. See if we can work together."

"Yeah," Kris breathed then cleared his throat and raised his voice a little. "I'm better with programs and software mostly, I can crack the hardware if I need to but it's not my strong point."

"I can do security hardware, but I'm more about the physical," Silverfyre's fleeting smirk made Kris feel a little too hot under his coat but his voice was cool and professional. "Intrusion, extraction, security. Guns mostly, but I'm trained in six martial arts and can throw a knife better than most people I know."

Silverfyre finished the recital in a clipped, professional tone without a hint of false modesty. Kris added the details to the profile stored on the wrist comp and tapped his fingers nervously on the table. Silverfyre's attitude made the whole thing suddenly _real_. They were really going to do this. Oh god. "Drew said you were going to pick the shortlist of jobs?"

"Yeah, my fixer, Firecracker, picked a couple of jobs for us," Silverfyre palmed a cred chip from his hip pocket and slotted it into the table's console. Kris flinched a little as the privacy shield went up with an asthmatic hiss. It was an older system, hazing the air in a dome around the table that would break up any visual bug and a buzz of white noise that would drown out any effort to listen to what they're talking about. Kris knew how the shield worked, could even build one with a grab-bag of electronics from the cred store if he had to but he had never ever liked them.

Silverfyre shrugged, half-apologetic, "Paranoia - a mercs best friend."

Silverfyre had three narrow file folders. They were all cheap, cream folders and Kris flipped through them. Silverfyre was watching him like a starving cat watching a mouse hole and Kris' fingers shook a little as he reread the job descriptions. He tapped a few keys, directing the security programs to check some details and frowned when they reported back. The jobs were...well, the jobs were all very standard data-runner jobs, Kris had even seen two of them posted on forums. Nothing new or..."Huh."

"Problems?" Silverfyre demanded immediately.

Kris spread the three folders out across the table in ascending order of difficulty. The merc was practically vibrating with tension and Kris swallowed, eyes flicking to the lock on the staff door. Just in case.

"Not what I was expecting," Kris said honestly. Drew had spent hours coaching him through the correct protocols of probationary runs and Kris was fighting the urge to call Drew back and ask if he'd totally misunderstood how these things worked.

Silverfyre frowned, shoulders tight and mouth pursed. "If there's nothing there you feel comfortable doing, I can ask Firecracker for more. Do you need something easier? Something different?"

Kris nearly laughed and shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It's just....I guess I was expecting a-" What had Drew called it? A "-try-out spread of jobs."

Silverfyre sat forward, still frowning but looking more puzzled than worried. "A try-out spread?"

"Yeah, you know," Kris shrugged awkwardly. He should have taken notes. Drew was going to kill him, or well, laugh at him forever at least. "One easy job, one average job and one really tough job?"

Silverfyre frowned again and pointed to the each of the three jobs. "Easy, average, tough."

Kris could actually feel his jaw drop and he looked down at the folders then back up. Silverfyre wasn't smiling but this-this had to be a joke.

"I know you haven't run in five years," Silverfyre said earnestly, leaning over the table like he was going to take Kris' hand or something. "But if you're saying these are all too hard, we've got a problem."

"...I'm really beginning to wonder if you listened to Minx at all," Kris said before he could catch himself. "They're not too difficult for me. Seriously. That," He tapped the left folder, the one that contained the details of the easiest job, "is a request for CCTV footage from a gated apartment complex. Simple."

"Yeah?" Silverfyre sat back, chin up and eyes narrowed. He flipped the folder open and pointed at the list of security. "Breaking in isn't _simple_. There are two security guards on the gate: the server room is at the center of the complex: 24/7 patrols: constantly changing combination locks: encrypted swipe cards and guards monitoring the CCTV from a remote site. "

Kris sighed and flicked the page over."...and a remote site backup with a discount cable subscription that runs through the main box. I could tell you the exact server you're looking for in a minute, tops. The off-site company has an in-house coding team who don't know anything about firewalls."

"This,” Kris tapped the middle folder, "is alteration of employment records. Top 100 company, easy."

"Okay..." Silverfyre sat back, arms folded. "And you're about to tell me we don't need to go onsite for that either?"

"You could," Kris said casually, flipping the folder open and pointing to the notes at the bottom. "Or you could break into the accounting house that keeps the pay roll and the employee records here," he plugged his wrist comp into the display jack on the console and brought up the city map. The accountancy office was tagged by a red dot. It was in the middle of white-collar district where security was the police force. "And which 'corrects' the onsite records every day at 8 am."

"Huh," Silverfyre pointed the last folder, the beginnings of a smile curving his lip. "And what's wrong with that one?"

"Data-retrieval," Kris winced as he scanned the description. "And I really hope it wasn't your fixer who set up that job."

"No," Silverfyre said cautiously. "It just came across her desk this morning. Some guy called Nitro set it up. What's wrong with it?"

"This data-retrieval isn't spec-ed right," Kris pushed the description across the table. "Your client won't pay and they'll trash your rep for it."

Silverfyre reread the page and the corner of his mouth pulled down sharply. "Yeah, I was kinda planning on grabbing the whole data setup and well, if he wouldn't pay, reselling the info to someone who would." The merc shrugged casually. "It's happened before."

"Wouldn't work," Kris said bringing up the network schematic as Nox and Chronos had found it on the display. "Grab the whole setup and you get those four viruses," he pointed out the jagged red icons in the code. "And _that_ malware tracker and a fire hound ICE program that will blow the plugs off a data-runner that's not running a very strong firewall. And even if you manage all that? You still won't have the data you need."

Kris tapped a few keys, killing the display and sending a few commands to Chronos and Virago. Silverfyre looked at him consideringly. He looked down at the sheet, then back at Kris. Then he crumpled up the page. "If that's what you think, then it's off the table. So what do you want to do? I can call my fixer and have her send over more if you want-"

Kris' wrist comp beeped and he ejected the small chip from the write slot. Silverfyre blinked as Kris slid the chip across the table.

"That's what the client wants," Kris said casually as he sent the suite back into standby.

Silverfyre blinked and took the chip like it was made of gold. "You're sure?"

Kris lifted a shoulder in a deliberately casual shrug. "This is why you wanted me, yeah? Have your fixer check it if you want."

"Yeah, okay," Silverfyre gestured at the phone hook-up with his free hand. "You mind?”

"Go for it, I'm going to grab another coffee," Kris disconnected his wrist comp, tucking the wire back into place. He hesitated and his momma's training kicked in. "You want one?"

"Thanks," Silverfyre tossed him a cred chip and smiled. Kris ducked his head and shuffled through the shield, wincing at the upsurge in white sound as the privacy shield came down. The bar was starting to fill as more patrons came off work and shuffled in. Kris tucked himself into the counter and ordered the coffees, keeping his eyes down and watched the patrons shuffle past as he waited.

Silverfyre had finished his call by the time Kris returned with both coffees balanced on a small tray. He emptied two packets of sugar into his mug, arching an eyebrow when Kris rolled his eyes. Coffee was best black and strong enough to stand a spoon upright in, everyone knew that. Silverfyre smirked and started talking about the practicalities of the still-unchosen job ahead.

"I don't really feel comfortable carrying a gun," Kris said as he sipped his coffee. "I don't want to give people more of a reason to shoot me than they already have."

"I can understand that," Silverfyre grinned at him and waved a hand. "I've got guns covered anyway. What about hand to hand? Do you want some training just in case?"

"I can manage," Kris shook his head. "I'm good at staying out of fights."

"Okay," Silverfyre stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "If things start getting heavy, you gotta stay behind me but that should be fine. What about armor?"

"Last I checked, they don't make armor in my size," Kris half-smiled. "Wearing over-sized armor turns me into a turtle."

Silverfyre looked him up and down carefully and Kris shifted a little. "I can sort that out for you."

"I don't-I never used it before,” Kris stuttered a little, cursing himself.

"I'll sort it," Silverfyre said immediately. "You can try it on one of the prep jobs, if you don't like it, we can dump it."

"...I guess," Kris conceded reluctantly. Armor was probably a good idea even if it made him feel uncomfortable just thinking about it.

"What about transport?" Silverfyre was making notes in a notebook with silver glitter glued to the cover. "You ride or drive?"

"Uh, I used to do both," Kris said after a moment's thought, shrugging a little. "It's been a while."

"Uh huh …" Silverfyre scribbled away in his notebook, frowning thoughtfully.

"I know that face," a woman's voice laughed from behind Kris' shoulder making him jump and spilling the last of his coffee. "That's his thinking face. Best prepare for an explosion."

The woman was young, with long hair in an eye-catching scarlet and she was very pretty. She smiled brightly, patting Kris on the shoulder. "Hi, you must be Juniper. I'm Firecracker."

Kris sat back hard, pushing himself back in his chair. His heart pounded like he'd touched a live wire. He wiped a napkin through the small puddle of coffee, hands shaking a little.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry," Firecracker stepped back immediately, hands up apologetically. "I thought you both would have spotted me. I'm not exactly stealthy."

Kris looked at her outfit and had to agree. Her leggings might have been described as 'zebra-patterned' if zebras came in midnight blue and gold. Her armored jacket had brass studs along the shoulders and cuffs and hung down past her hips. Underneath the jacket was a royal blue T-shirt with 'Idolize' spelled out in glittering gold cursive across her chest and she was wearing chunky golden bracelets that clicked as she moved.

"I-I'm kinda tired and," Kris managed, hanging on tightly to his bag. "I should probably get going...."

"Aww," Firecracker pouted extravagantly at him. "Silverfyre told me you'd cracked one of the jobs."

"What? The _Brink-Casement_ thing?" Kris looked at her then at the door just over her shoulder, rubbing his hands on his pants. He couldn't really focus on what she was saying, just that she was blocking his escape route and only deep-rooted Southern manners were keeping him from shoving past her to get out. He really, really hated being backed into a corner. "That wasn't really a job."

"Hey Firecracker," Silverfyre interrupted, waving her over to his side of the table before Kris could properly panic. "Why don't you come over here and verify the data?"

Kris stayed pushed back into the corner as they looked over the data, trying to will his heart to stop racing. After a minute or two, Firecracker looked up with a big smile and took a cred chip out of her pocket.

"It's all good," she said happily, sliding the chip across the table and Kris blinked at it. "Nice work. That's the payout. I'll deliver the chip to the client and pick the money up from escrow."

"Oh," Kris said lamely, trying to sound like he understood what the hell she was talking about. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Firecracker beamed at him as she settled back against the wall and stole Silverfyre's coffee. The merc rolled his eyes but didn't protest. "So, Sparkles here told me that I picked jobs that were too easy. I got more if you want, or we can reschedule and Drew can hook us up with the next round of jobs. Your choice, Juniper... "

"Nice to see I get a say..." Silverfyre mentioned dryly.

"Shush, you," Firecracker waved her hands dismissively and the merc sighed soulfully.

Kris wondered when exactly they had discussed this. He'd been gone for like two minutes while Silverfyre made the call. He thumbed a quick message to Drew, feeling a little outnumbered. "I-Drew's meeting me here actually, after the meeting."

"That'd be cool," Firecracker smiled, ignoring the blatant lie. "You mind if I stay and meet him?"

"...I guess?" Kris shrugged. He was going to owe Drew so many favors by the time this job was done.

"Soooo...." Firecracker eyed him speculatively. "You're a data runner. Gotta say you're not what I pictured. "

"...do I want to know what you were picturing?" Kris asked warily.

Firecracker shrugged a shoulder and grinned. "More geeky. Less cutie."

Kris' eyebrows shot up and Silverfyre stared at his fixer like she'd lost her mind. "Geeky?"

"You know," Firecracker flapped her hands vaguely at Kris' bag. "Geeky like with glasses and acne and more gadgets than God"

"'Cracker, jeez..." Silverfyre covered his face with his hands.

"You know most scientists are geeks, right?" Kris folded his arms, feeling a little offended now. "Every advance in skin-creams and antibiotics comes from a lab that was full of geeks. And I don't need to bring my gadgets to a meet."

"Never thought of it like that," Firecracker scrunched up her nose, looking ten years younger for a second. "But they generally don't step out of the lab."

"How would you know?" Kris arched an eyebrow. "I'm as big a geek as they come and I'm not in a lab _and_ I don't look 'geeky'"

"So you're like an undercover geek or something," Firecracker giggled and Silverfyre groaned into the table, hands cradling his head. Kris thought that maybe he was blushing. "Cute and hot and just when you don't expect it, you geek out, start quoting deck specs at them, yeah?"

Kris deliberately widened his eyes and made an effort to look totally innocent. "Or I could be the face of the secret geek invasion."

Firecracker narrowed her eyes for a beat before she smiled widely, "You're alright, Juniper. I like you."

"...that's not the usual reaction to me running my mouth, I gotta say."

"Well," Firecracker sniffed. "I'm not your usual fixer."

"I don't know that many fixers," Kris admitted. "Just Drew and he's used to me."

"And I'm used to Sparkles here," Firecracker poked the merc in the side and he swatted her hand away without looking up. "But he's been a pain in my butt for the last week. I'm glad you agreed to work with him. "

Kris didn’tknow what he should say but he was saved by Drew's voice. "Juniper! Hey, there you are!"

Drew had put on a lot of muscle since Kris saw him last and the bench sagged under his weight as he dropped into the seat beside Kris. He looked tired, the crease between his eyebrows looked permanent now but he looked alert, wary and his eyes went soft when he looked at Kris. Kris couldn't help the wide smile as Drew looped his arm around Kris' shoulders and dragged him into an awkward sideways hug and it’s like they saw each other yesterday, not two years ago.

"Good to see you," Drew said softly into Kris' ear and hugged him tighter, just for a second. Kris was smiling too hard to say anything back.

"You must be Drew," Firecracker held out her hand and smiled brightly as Silverfyre straightened up. "Firecracker."

Drew shook hands with his free hand, loosening his grip on Kris but not letting him go either. "Ma'am."

"Silverfyre," the merc nodded to Drew but kept his hands on the table. "Pleased to meet you."

Drew tensed a little, Kris could feel it and he looked at Silverfyre for a moment. "Sobered up then?"

"Yeah," Silverfyre smiled, showing white teeth. "Amazing what a slap patch and a shower will do."

"That a habit your profile forgot to mention?" Drew asked, still neutral and watching Silverfyre through opaque eyes. Kris poked Drew in the side, aware Firecracker was watching them.

"Nope," Silverfyre answered immediately, "And it's not going to be one either. I explained the circumstances to Juniper."

Everyone turned to look at Kris who half-shrugged and Drew rolled his eyes. "Fine, Juniper says you'll work, that's good enough."

The tension dropped as everyone breathed out in relief and Firecracker leaned forward, talking to Drew. "So, it seems that I underestimated your boy when we picked the jobs."

Drew laughed, squeezing Kris for a second before letting go and turning his attention to the other fixer. "You gave him the Brink-Casement job, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Firecracker grinned ruefully. "Didn't expect him to go near it."

Drew elbowed Kris in the ribs. "He does that. I'd swear he's lucky he's good..."

"Delivered it, though. Gotta respect that," Firecracker said. "I paid him already for the info. It's good."  
Kris passed the cred-chip to Drew. He hadn't asked about the payout but it was risky taking cred back into the Gauntlet. Drew slipped the cred chip into his inside pocket and nodded to Firecracker. "Fast turnaround"

"I try," Firecracker bowed.

"So, what are you thinking for job-choices?"

Firecracker sat back. "I'm thinking that we need to rethink the probationary jobs that the boys can pick from. I think we could pick the short listings. We each know our own boy's skills. We should be able to pick something challenging for them both."

"I can work with that," Drew nodded and turned to Kris. "Juniper?"

"I trust you, man," Kris held up his hands. Drew wouldn't let anyone set him up and Kris trusted him with his life.

"And Silverfyre trusts me," Firecracker said easily.

Drew glanced at Silverfyre who shrugged and smirked at them, "I don't have a problem with it."

"Right," Drew said, drumming his fingers on the table. "It's getting late, so Firecracker, how about you and I go work out the shortlist. Juniper, you want to take off, I can handle this."

Kris looked at the clock display on his wrist comp and bit back a curse. The Zombies would have fought the Lockdowns into a submission by now which meant that the evening brawl would be starting soon. If he didn't get home now, he could be caught in the middle and with Momma talking about kicking him out, Kris wasn't going to trust that the Zombies wouldn't use him for target practice.

"Shit," Kris wiggled out past Drew. "Sorry, ma'am. I gotta get moving. Fight's due to start early and all that."

"Leave the man your number if you're so fired up about getting this job moving," Drew ordered, already thumbing through the contact lists on his phone.

"Oh, right," Kris snagged the pen from Drew's pocket and scribbled his number on a napkin. He kept his eyes on the table as he pushed the napkin across the table and Drew tweaked the pen out of his hand neatly. "I really gotta go. Nice meeting you, ma'am. Silverfyre."

He was moving before anyone could respond, waving over his shoulder as he ducked through the crowd.


	11. Chapter 11

Adam didn’t hang around too much longer. Allison and Drew had devolved into hard core fixer talk and sure, if he’d wanted to, he could probably have butted in or figured it out, but to be honest, he had a to-do list of his own that needed to be sorted out. He trusted Allison to work something out in terms of a trial job, but there was a lot to be done before they’d be ready to do even the simplest of runs so Adam made his way back to his apartment to start crossing things off the list.

Juniper had given him an idea of what he could do but Adam still wondered how accurate Juniper's self-assessment would turn out to be. There was something to the runner that Adam wasn’t seeing, something that Juniper was hiding beneath the baggy clothes and snarky conversation. He’d gotten close to it, or at least he thought he’d been close, when Allison walked in and scared the boy into needing a new pair of shorts. That right there, Juniper's over-reaction, was a problem. Juniper’d gone from relaxed and almost comfortable to nervous and panicked in a heartbeat, and much as he hated doing it, Adam knew he had to test that boundary somehow. The last thing Adam needed to happen mid-run was Juniper bolting before they’d done what was needed and leaving Adam to deal with a shit storm on his own.

Adam shook his head, trying to put the pessimistic thoughts behind him. He was borrowing trouble and he knew it. They hadn’t even done a milk-run as a team yet and already he was jumping to the worst case scenario with nothing but hints and worries to support his tenuous leaps. Best to wait until after their first run, and then, if it wasn’t working out, they could reassess. Maybe they could work out some way to get a relay point into the building and hooked up to the mainframe so that he could do the work remotely. Maybe they could...

Adam squeezed his hands into fists and rubbed them against his eyes. This wasn’t working. He needed to stop thinking about the _Trojan_ job for now, just focus on his list and work on getting them everything they needed for the junior jobs first. Adam pulled out his list and looked at it.

Armour.

That was the first thing that needed to get sorted. Juniper said that armour didn’t come in his size and for the most part he was right. Mercs vastly outnumbered normals when it came to buying armour and in general, mercs only came in three sizes: large, extra large and oh my God. Juniper was a hell of a lot shorter than the average merc and off the shelf armour wasn’t going to work for him. But Adam had contacts and was confident that he could get them to knock together something that would work.

Pulling his phone, Adam thumbed through the contact list until he found the name that he was looking for and tapped the dial button. He sat down on the sofa and waited. It rang and rang and just when Adam figured it was about to click over to voicemail, there was an answer.

“This better be earth-shatteringly important or I swear to God I am going to shoot you so full of holes that you’re not going to know which one to crap from.”

Adam smirked, “Afternoon, Gee. I was hoping to speak to the boy genius. Is he around?”

The boy genius in question was Andre Dorsett, one half of the world’s most famous armour manufacturing team. His partner, in and out of the sack was Gee, or Sven Gibson as he was known in the corporate world. Together they made a good team. Gee was by far the coldest, most merciless bastard of a merc that Adam had ever met but he had a damned good head for business and more money from his merc work than most of the corp execs in the city. Adam wasn't afraid of Gee but he avoided the merc when he could out of a desire to keep his head where it was supposed to be. Adam and Andre had been a little more than friends way back before the two had met and Gee was a little territorial.

Andre was gay, with a capital _fab-u-lous_ , and believed firmly that armour should come in every colour of the rainbow including pink and purple zebra stripes, but no one could match him when it came to customisations and right now, that was exactly what Adam needed.

There was a muffled curse on the other end of the phone and the sound of scrabbling followed by an ‘Eep’ and another voice answered, “You’ve got Andre. Who’s this?”

“Hey boy,” Adam smirked as he answered, “It’s Fyre. Didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

A giggle and then a slap and Andre was laughing, “Just a little. Quiet afternoon. You know how that goes.”

Adam huffed a laugh, “Been a while, but I think I remember how it goes.”

“Like you couldn’t walk into _Idolize_ and take your pick any time you wanted, babe,” Andre teased. “So what can I do for you, honey? What magic do you need me to work for you?”

“Got a commission for you, if you’ve got space in your schedule.”

“For you, babe, anytime,” There was another scuffle on the other end of the phone followed by the click of a door closing and then just Andre’s voice, “Someone trash the last set I sent you? Cause really, you should start charging them for it.”

Adam shook his head, “No. No, it’s still good. No, this set is for someone else.”

“Oh, tell me more,” Andre purred and Adam could picture him getting comfortable and settling into gossip-gathering mode, “New boy on the horizon? Is he cute?”

“It’s not like that, Drey,” Adam smiled, using the nickname he’d coined for Andre back when they’d been together, “I’m running a couple of jobs with him and well, you know I can’t bear for anyone I run with to be anything less than glamorous.”

“Uh huh,” Andre didn’t sound convinced, “And since when do you run with anyone for more than one job at a time. What happened to the lone wolf that we all know and vaguely tolerate?”

“Love you too, bitch,” Adam laughed, and settled back on his sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “Got a couple of big scores coming up. Needed someone at my back.”

“So he’s a merc, then?” Andre fished for information.

Adam considered how much to tell Andre. He usually shared all his news with him but this time, he hesitated. Maybe it was the run or maybe it was the fact that he knew that once it got out there that there was a possibility that it would get back to the wrong ears. He trusted Andre and he even trusted Gee but... It wasn’t just his life on the line for this one. Maybe if he stayed vague, that would work.

“No. He’s a data runner.”

“Oh my God!” Andre screamed down the phone and Adam winced and pulled the handset away from his ear. It didn’t seem to make a difference. “You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. Gee said that even you weren’t stupid enough to take that job but oh my God, you are, aren’t you?”

Adam winced. Well, that hadn’t gone to plan.

He sighed and answered as honestly as he could, “Considering it. Haven’t decided yet. Need to see if my data runner is any good first. Then maybe we’ll take a crack at it.”

“Keep telling yourself that, baby, and you might believe it,” Andre said, his voice quiet, “You wouldn’t be calling if you weren’t already committed to the job. Hell, maybe you should be committed somewhere else just for thinking about it.”

“You might be right there,” Adam admitted, shrugging even though Andre couldn’t see him, “Allie isn’t too happy with me either. Thinks I’m certifiable but she’s given up shouting at me. She’s down to pointed glares and calling me an idiot behind my back.”

“Always knew that girl was a good one,” Andre laughed, “I’m not gonna talk you out of it, babe, just... Make sure you come back in one piece? Who else am I gonna get to showcase my best work?”

Adam smiled, “So you think you can fit us in?”

Andre didn’t even pause to think, “Of course. So, this data runner, what’s he like?”

Andre wasn't asking about Juniper's ability to code. Adam pulled up his mental image of Juniper, “Allie called him cute when she met him today and I gotta say that yeah, she’s right. He’s about five foot eight when he isn’t hunched over, brown hair that always seems to look like he just got out of bed, hazel eyes with lighter flecks around the centre. He seems like he keeps in shape but it’s hard to tell. Little stockier than you’d expect from a runner, you know? But every time I’ve seen him, he’s been wearing baggy clothes so I’m not sure.”

“ _That_ should be a crime,” Andre sympathised. “So, he’s teeny and cute with brown and brown. That’s sounding suspiciously close to your type, babe, gotta say.”

Adam felt his cheeks heating up. Andre knew him too well. “Oh and did I mention that he’s got this to-die-for Southern accent. Not one of those really strong ones, but a hint of a twang just around some of the words.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and then Andre was laughing, “Oh babe, how awful!”

“I know, right?” Adam shrugged. “It’s just my luck to have someone tailor-made to my liking dropped into my lap and I can’t touch him.”

There was movement on the other end of the line and a huff of breath, “You know, babe, if you weren’t such an uptight merc, it wouldn’t be a problem. So you’re running a job together, so what? Technically, there’s nothing against gathering him up, bringing him back to yours and nailing him to the mattress.”

Adam sighed. It was true and well, after the show with Drew earlier, Adam had not doubt that Juniper was interested in guys. It would be so easy to just... And Adam stopped that thought right there. Nothing about it would be easy. With Juniper's distrust of mercs, even if he was inclined towards a little boy on boy action, Adam doubted that he could convince him to put all his fears aside for a little bump and grind with a merc.

“There’s more to it than that.” Andre started to talk but Adam cut over him, “Let’s just say that it wouldn’t work and leave it at that. Trust me on this one, okay, Drey?”

“Sure, babe,” Andre’s voice dropped, and there was a tinge of sadness around the edge, “Whatever you say. So, you’ll bring him round? Tomorrow? I can get something tacked up while he’s there and work on it from there, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, Drey,” Adam answered, “That’s great. Appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe. Anytime.”

Adam said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. Sitting on the sofa for a minute, he closed his eyes and worked through a meditation technique he’d picked up from one of his ex’s. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name but he could remember this technique and the lyrics to every _Overclock_ song that the band had ever had.

Happier and more centered, Adam opened his eyes. Time was disappearing and he was sitting on his ass. He needed to get up and moving and not dwelling on things that he couldn’t change.

Picking up his phone again, he scrolled down to Drew’s number and dialled.

It rang twice before it was picked up and Drew’s less than dulcet tones barked out "Whaddya want?"

Adam looked at the phone and shook his head. He would have said that someone had gotten out of the wrong side of the Gauntlet this morning, except that he’d seen Drew already today and he hadn’t been that grumpy. He wondered if it was Allison that had put him in a dark mood or if it was something else.

"And a good evening to you too, Drew."

Drew snorted, "Manners cost extra and you aren't paying me for shit. What's up, Silverfyre?"

This probably wasn’t the best idea that Adam had ever had, but he needed Drew onside with his plan. Juniper hadn’t looked particularly impressed with the concept of armour but Adam wasn’t about to let him out into the big, bad world without it so he pushed on, "Might need your help with something, if you can.” He paused before adding, “It's for Juniper."

Hopefully that would make a difference to the fixer.

"I'm listening....." came the gruff reply and Adam smiled.

"I got him a fitting with an armourer tomorrow and I need him to be there. Think you can arrange it?"

Drew didn’t hesitate, "Can do. When and where?"

Adam recited the address from memory, "Sector 3, 236 Deckard Street. Say 10am? That should give the guy time to work."

It was an uptown address, almost at the edge of the Corp Zone. And that was the other reason that Adam wanted Drew onside. Juniper had no love of corporations. In fact, Adam was fairly sure that Juniper’s hatred of them ran almost as deep as his own. He doubted that Juniper left the Gauntlet if he could possibly help it and this was about as far from the Gauntlet as you could get in every sense of the word.

There was a silence on the other end of the phone line, "You know he's not talking a particularly robust budget here?"

Adam had guessed that but he’d never planned to ask Juniper for a penny. Hell, Adam doubted that a full set of armour for Juniper would even show up on Adam’s annual account. Adam was a _very_ good customer, even with the ex-boyfriend discount, but there was no need to tell Drew that.

"The guy owes me a couple of favours. Tell Juniper it's pro bono."

Drew thought about that for a minute, "He's not going to like it but what the hell, that's your problem. He'll be there. How long will you need him?"

"It's probably gonna take an hour,” Adam answered, thinking about his last armour fitting, “Maybe two."

"A'right,” Drew replied, “He'll be there."  
"Thanks, Drew," Adam said and meant it.

"Not a problem,” Drew replied and hung up, leaving Adam listening to the dial tone.

Rolling his eyes, he crossed that item off his list. If Drew was anything like Allison, Juniper would be there even if that meant that Drew had to deliver him hog tied. So that just left the fifty-nine other things that he needed to get sorted. No pressure or anything.

 

Gee wasn’t happy to see him - the bore .50 caliber that he was staring down was something of a dead giveaway. Adam recognized the gun as the classic Desert Eagle that had been modified to fit comfortably into the overly large paw that Gee called a hand. He was a large man, standing at least half a foot taller than Adam and was at least twice as broad. With his customized optics, his eyes were pure black, which he thought added to his scare factor, but Adam just thought made him look like every other pretentious merc wannabe out on the street.

Gee was better than those posers - really he was - but the man had a wicked case of cyber-addiction. If there was a new mod available, then Gee would be first in line to try it out. Or at least, that’s how he’d been before he met Andre. The tiny armorer had somehow managed to sneak under the merc’s defenses and warm up that ice cold heart. He'd even started to slowly drag Gee back from the brink of cyber-psychosis. He still had a long way to go, but this time at least, Gee didn’t pull the trigger.

“He’s here,” Gee growled over his shoulder.

Adam leaned a little, trying to see around the man-mountain. Andre was sitting on the couch, legs curled up under him and making love to a large cup of coffee.

“I’m out,” Gee muttered and made to leave until Andre coughed pointedly.

Adam frowned, until he saw Gee lean down and pull Andre into a toe curling kiss. Adam turned away to give them a moment of privacy. He didn’t really do romance at this hour of the morning. He barely did _awake_ this early in the morning. Still, he’d made the appointment and if he was going to drag Juniper out of bed, then the least Adam could do was meet him here and make sure that everything went okay. This had to be Juniper’s first time getting fitted for armor, and no matter how much research the data-runner did, it wasn't going to be enough to prepare him for the wealth of questions that Andre tended to throw at new clients during a fitting.

Adam remembered the first time he met with an armorer. It had been about a year into his career. He’d just scored his first five figure job and was riding high on success. He’d read every damned article, every brand review available over the net and he’d had a list of everything he’d wanted, every type of material, the cut, the color, everything! When he’d laid out his requirements to the armorer, the first thing the guy’d done was laugh, the second was to call Adam an idiot and take a red pen to the list. His list had called for the designer to stack and double stack the layers and if it had been created, Adam would have been lucky to be able to lift it, let alone wear it. He’d learned a lot since then and could hopefully nudge Andre down the path that he wanted.

Andre and Gee separated with a messy sucking sound that Adam just knew was for his benefit. Gee mumbled a goodbye and then deliberately bumped Adam’s shoulder on the way out the door. Rolling his eyes, Adam just shrugged it off. One of these days, Gee was going to have to get over his irrational fear that Adam was going to steal Andre away. Honestly, their time was over as soon as Andre met Gee and Adam made it a point to never try to butt into a serious relationship. It kept his list of enemies shorter and his ammo bill smaller.

“Fyre! Babe!” Andre pushed himself off the couch and gave Adam a fleeting hug as he kissed the air beside his cheek. He looked around and pouted, “You forgot your datarunner!”

Adam smiled, “Didn’t forget. He’s meeting us here.”

“Oh, okay,” Andre pouted again and then shrugged, “Well, I guess that will work.”

Adam blinked. He wasn’t exactly sure why Andre phrased it like that, and he wasn’t going to ask. Sometimes it was best to just embrace the eccentricities in the room. And speaking of… Today Andre was dressed in one of his own creations, a purple and midnight blue light armored suit with pale pink shirt peeking through. It wasn’t the most shocking color-scheme that Adam had seen on the other man, and at least it went well with the dark blue streaks in his hair.

Andre beckoned Adam to follow him as he made his way into the shop itself and busied himself turning off the security systems and turning on the monitoring system. Adam felt the buzz as the systems warmed up and scanned the room. He could hear the hard drives under the counter spinning up to full speed before they settled down to normal operations. Adam was given jobs to do, lifting bolts of heavy fabric down from the shelves and other bolts were marked as needing to be put away. And all during the work, Andre chatted.

“So are we talking pure black for your new boy toy, or do you think we can do something exciting?”

Adam smiled, “He’s not my boy toy.”

“Oh phooey!” Andre brushed off his words, “And you didn’t answer the question.”

Sighing, Adam thought about it, “Best go for something standard, I think. He’s not big into the armor thing. Let’s start him off easy.”

“Spoilsport,” Andre pouted.

Adam glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for Juniper to arrive. He ducked into the back and grabbed a coffee, bringing out a fresh cup for Andre as well. Andre had some of his design books out and flicking through them, marking specific pages and pointing them out to Adam, as he bit his lip. Adam thought it was adorable. Even given that he was _the_ leading name in functional fashion design in the city, and easily the best armorer in the country, Andre always got nervous before his first fitting with a new client.

Adam heard a motorbike pull up outside the shop and flicked a glance at the security cameras. When they didn’t show anything, he moved a fraction closer to the window and watched from there. Two people, and Adam recognized Juniper instantly, but not his driver. The bike wasn’t flashy, but it was well handled, slowing to a stop and parking up at the curb. Juniper tapped the other guy on the shoulder and kicked off the bike. There was a moment of chatting and a shared laugh, and Adam felt a knot of what felt a hell of a lot like jealousy low in the pit of his stomach. He pushed it down and took a sip of coffee. Juniper wasn’t his boyfriend or even a casual hook-up. He was just the data-runner that Adam was signing up to run with, no matter how interesting he found him, or how close to being his type the other man was. Their relationship was purely professional and Adam was going to keep it that way. He had no right to be jealous.

Juniper pushed the door open, and seemed to hunch in on himself a little more than he usually did, looking around the store. Andre looked up when the buzzer sounded, eyebrow rising when he saw Juniper.

“Um, hello?” Juniper said tentatively.

Adam smiled and waved him over, "Juniper, good morning. Hope it's not too early for you."

Andre hemmed and walked over. Adam recognised the look on his face and couldn’t hold back the smirk. Andre’s nerves were behind him now and he was back into full fledged designer mode.

Juniper’s eyes flicked to Adam, “No, it's fine.” He turned to look at Andre, blushing a little as he was given a very thorough once over, “Uh, hi. I'm Juniper.”

Andre said nothing for a moment, just walked around the data runner, tapping his chin with a finger before coming to a stop in front of Juniper and breaking into a smile, "Aren't you adorable? A datarunner, Fyre tells me,” he looked over his shoulder to Adam and nodded, “I think we can work with this..."

Juniper looked confused, “Yes? I mean I am a data-runner but um, I thought this was a planning session?”

Andre was equally confused, looking at Adam for an explanation, “Planning session?”

Adam frowned, trying to figure out what Juniper was talking about when it clicked into place, “That's what Drew told you?”

Juniper nodded, hesitant as he answered, “...yes?”

Adam understood. Drew had said that he’d do whatever he had to so that Juniper showed up. This must have been his cover story. Adam nodded, and covered Drew’s lie, “Ah, I may not have been entirely clear to Drew.” He shrugged, “We need to get you fitted for armour.”

“Oh, um...okay?”

Andre cut in before Adam could say anything else, “And that's where I come in. I'm Andre and I'll be your tailor cum armourer for today. Pleasure is all yours,” he winked.

“Nice to meet you,” Juniper greeted him, looking a little dubious.

Andre smiled, and tapped the tiny computer interface on his wrist, “Let's just check your measurements...” He tapped again, and again, hitting it on the side. He looked up apologetically, “Won’t be a second.”

Juniper frowned, “...how do you have my measurements?”

Tapping the wrist comp again and cursing under his breath, Andre answered, “Usually they're taken automatically when you walk through the door. Gadgets...” he smiled, shrugging, “Never can trust them.”

Adam knew Andre’s system well and it never failed. Every time you walked through the door, lasers scanned you and stored the relevant biometrics on the computer system. If you were a regular, it was smart enough to pull up your records and save any changes against your profile. If you were new, it stored a temporary scan for Andre to keep or dump as he needed. He’d paid a small fortune for the system and it was a point of pride that it’d never broken down.

Juniper looked around, scanning the walls and finally caught the almost invisible strips embedded in the doorframe, “I didn't see-oh, wait. Pauley-McCoys X1900s?”

“How'd you...” Andre looked shocked, shocked and impressed, “Oh, you are smart. I can see we're going to get along wonderfully...”

Juniper blushed and looked vaguely embarrassed, “Yeah, sorry, I didn't bother to take down the camouflage program.”

Adam perked up as he registered what Juniper had said. A camouflage program? That would definitely explain it. He’d seen programs like that before. Minx had shown him the _Ghost_ program just before she’d gotten fried and Adam had been impressed. A program that captured images from any vid feed and simultaneously wiped the subject out of existence, or just blurred the features to make identification impossible. Datarunners still used it. Mercs too.

The only problem was that the _Ghost_ left telltale signs that could be exploited by corporate techies and unravelled. Andre’s system was supposed to be able to unravel a camouflage program. It was one of the base requirements, and one that Adam had suggested and Gee had grudgingly agreed when Andre asked nicely. Allison had the same system in place and Adam knew that there were no commercially available upgrades to the _Ghost_ that were able to circumvent the system, and definitely none that thrashed biometric scanning as well as vidfeeds.

That could only mean one thing. Juniper wasn't using the _Ghost_ program. His camouflage had to be a custom program, written by Juniper himself, because Adam didn’t see him trusting software that he didn’t know from the source code up. Adam smiled because this was just another signpost on the road pointing out that Juniper was definitely the guy that he needed for this run.

Andre eventually turned off his wrist comp and gave up trying to get it to work, “Don't worry about it, darling, I'll do it the old fashioned way...”

“The old-fashioned way?” Juniper asked as he started to pink up.

Adam smiled, “He's talking about the measuring tape.”

Andre reached out and tapped Adam on the shoulder, tisking as he did it. He turned back to Juniper and considered, “Well, unless you think your camouflage is going to wipe your details from the laser scans...”

It was Andre's backup plan. Occasionally, someone changed so dramatically that it was almost impossible to tie their old and new scans together – computers were stubborn – and Andre had to manually scan them so that he could save the profile properly.

“Ummm...” Juniper’s hands disappeared into the pockets of his hoody. He looked embarrassed. “It probably will - anything that stores biometrics or transmits live data gets nulled.”

Andre considered, “Then tape it is...” He looked around the shop, “We can do it here or...” he pointed to the dressing rooms at the back of the store in deference to the blush slowly darkening on Juniper’s cheeks.

Juniper flicked a lightning quick glance at Adam before looking back at Andre, “There. Definitely there.”

Andre waggled his eyebrows at Adam and linked arms with Juniper. He smirked and batted his eyelashes at Juniper, “Looks like it's my lucky day.”

Juniper blinked and bit his lip, looking nervous, “It's my first time actually.” He looked down at Andre through lowered lashes, “Be gentle?”

Adam’s jaw dropped at Juniper’s words and the perfectly virginal tone that belied the gleam of mischief in those wide brown eyes.

Andre, for his part didn’t miss a beat, just threw back his head and laughed, “Oh baby, it'll be over before you know it.” He paused, thinking, “Oh wait, that's not a good thing, is it...?”

“I feel used already,” Juniper joked back.

Adam rolled his eyes at the pair, “Just smack him if his hands go wandering, Juniper.”

“As if...” Andre huffed, “ _I'm_ a professional!”

"I'm not even going to ask 'a professional what?'" Juniper looked down at Andre’s hands, “You could always try a leash?”

Andre shook his head, “I just do armour, babe, but if you want to try one, I'm fairly sure I can knock one up for you...”

That was a mental image that was going to stick in Adam's mind.

“Maybe a collar? I'm not really into the leash but a good set of collar and wrist cuffs would be nice?” Juniper offered innocently.

Andre ushered Juniper in and with a wink at Adam, he pulled the deep purple drapes closed behind them. Adam settled in for a long wait and tried very hard not to picture what was happening behind that curtain. There was nothing but rustling for a couple of long minutes and some muted conversation. Adam was thinking of ducking into the back and grabbing another coffee when Andre wolf whistled. “Oh baby, aren't you a surprise?”

Juniper’s voice holds a hint of embarrassment when he answers, “What can I say, I like the way they feel.”

“I know what you mean,” Andre giggled, “Easiest way to knock a merc off his feet.”

Adam didn’t have a damned clue what they’re talking about but he was about two steps away from grabbing the curtain and ripping it down. Did Juniper have a taser, a gun? Was that what he meant when he’d implied that he could look after himself?

“I never got comfortable with the glass,” Juniper said.

“I know what you mean,” Andre answered, “Takes a little getting used to. Used to constantly worry that I was about to break it.”

They fell into silence again and Adam couldn’t figure out what they were talking about. Possibilities flashed through his mind and were instantly dismissed because they didn’t make any sense.

And then Andre was talking again, “I've got something that would be fairly close... It’ll need to be taken in a little but...” he stopped, “Wait here, I'll get it.”

“Okay,” Juniper agreed.

Andre ducked out from behind the curtain and pulled it back into place before Adam could catch a glimpse of Juniper. Drey did, however, catch Adam’s eye and mouth ‘so hot’ at him. Adam glared back, not bothering to hide his envy. Andre ignored him and ducked behind the counter. He flipped through some of the pre-sewn samples that he had and picked up the smallest model. It still looked far too big. Andre tossed the pants and jacket over his arm and picked up one of the plain armoured t-shirts with his free hand. He nudged the curtain out of his way with his ass and ducked back into the dressing room.

Adam looked around the store and contemplated another cup of coffee. They were down to the boring job of pinning and fixing, which could take forever. He walked into the back and busied himself with the old fashioned percolator. Andre was a bit of a ditz and this store was laid out in a manner that made sense to him and only him. Adam was determined. Eventually, he found the filters and the ground coffee and even the cups, and set the percolator going.

“Who here is the designer? Who here has an eye for fashion?” Andre’s voice is raised slightly and there was an edge of exasperation to it that had Adam smirking.

He walked out to the shop floor once he’d poured himself of fresh coffee and leaned back against the counter to listen but it was just shorthand now. Half spoken sentences and grunts of acknowledgements.

“I need to...” from Juniper and a mumbled “Gottit!” back from Andre.

“Maybe a little...” came another trailed off sentence from Andre which was followed by a questioning “Yeah?” from Juniper.

Adam could picture the microscopic changes, pins being moved and repositioned until both of them were happy and comfortable with the hang of the material. He could see Andre stepping back and carefully examining every inch of the jacket, fixing the image in his mind as he got ready to strip Juniper and disappear behind a sewing machine for the rest of the day.

“So, how’s that?” Andre asked eventually, finally shifting back to full sentences.

“Perfect,” Juniper answered and Adam smiled.

“Fantabulous,” Andre clapped his hands together, “Let me get your armour sewn and then you can try it out. If it's uncomfortable, bring it back and I'll fix it up for you, _gratis_!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” and Adam could almost hear Juniper blushing.

Andre brushed off the thanks, “You're going to be wearing my brand, babes, I can't let you wander around with something that doesn't work.”

“Still, thank you!”

“Not a problem, babes...” Andre said, “So do you want to show Fyre, or keep the big reveal for the finished product?”

Adam was curious. Curious and patient and he really wanted to see how Juniper looked in something other than baggy clothes that had seen better decades.

Juniper stuttered a little over his answer, “Uh, I figure he'll take your word for it. All he cares about is that I'm wearing armour.”

Not technically true, Adam admitted to himself.

There was a beep from behind the curtain and Juniper’s voice lost all of its hesitancy, “Oh for-“

“Problems?” Andre asked.

Juniper sounded distracted when he answered, “Maybe. The name Maelcum mean anything to you?”

Adam stilled as he listened. Maelcum was bad news. No reputable fixer in the city would touch him so rumour had it that he’d blackmailed some of the less reputable ones into finding him jobs on the other side of legal. He specialised in wet work – real messy stuff that they couldn’t even feature on the evening news. Adam knew that there was a bounty on Maelcum’s head, place there by Gee, after the guy had left Andre for dead in the store one evening. Adam had thought about collecting on it, but Maelcum was a bastard who believed strongly in collateral damage and Adam wasn’t willing to take the risk.

It took Andre a moment to compose himself enough to answer and even then, there was an unmistakable tremor in his voice, “He's a bastard. Tried to thrash my rep, told people I'd given him substandard armour. As _if_! Why honey?”

“He's trying to siphon off your customer database,” Juniper answered.

“He's...” Andre started but broke off. “Oh hell... I need to unplug... Shoot! I gotta...”

Adam crossed over to the computer on the counter and looked at the screen. Juniper was right. Adam could see it there in front of him in neat pixels. There was an unauthorised entry notification message on the screen and just below it Adam could see the dialogue box clearly showing that files were being copied. Adam looked around, trying to find the plug.

“No need. Th-at...should do it,” Juniper said and Adam looked at the screen again.

OPERATION CANCELLED appeared over the file copy message and then everything went back to normal. Adam looked in the direction of the dressing rooms and not for the first time wondered just how good Juniper was. He was better than Minx, that was for sure. Just like Minx herself had told Adam. It was starting to look like Juniper was even better than she thought he was. Neutralizing and reversing a cyber-assault on a strange system - on the fly - with nothing more than his wrist computer – because Adam didn’t see a fully rigged deck and he was damned sure that he’d have noticed Juniper dragging half an apartment’s work of tech with him and his battered bag was sitting on the ground outside the fitting room – was amazing.

Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. But proper decks weren’t that lightweight, and Juniper’s bag wasn’t that big.

Andre was just as shocked as Adam by the sounds of it, “...You've just.... Just now?”

Juniper sounded almost embarrassed at the question, “Uh, yeah. You remember that camouflage program? My security programs were monitoring that and they logged the intrusion attempt.” Adam heard another couple of taps on what had to be Juniper’s wrist comp and then, “He's jacked in from Sector 15, junction of eighty-fifth and ninety-second. There's a 'runner-den there. Coinbox's place.”

Adam was already on the phone calling Gee, and to his surprise, he who picked up first time, barking out a “what?”

“My datarunner just intercepted a security breach into the shop’s system,” Adam explained.

“So?”

Eloquent as always, Adam thought. “So, it was Maelcum. He tried to pull the customer list, biometrics, everything.”

Gee devolved into curses and Adam wasn’t sure he knew what half of them meant.

“Juniper did a traceback, got an address if you want it,” Adam cut in.

“Give.”

Adam repeated the address and was left listening to the dial tone. He huffed a laugh and clicked his phone closed. Some things never changed.

Andre was out of the dressing room by the time Adam tucked his phone back in his pocket and was still looking a little shaken. Adam took the clothes off him and pulled the smaller man into a much needed hug. Andre hung on, shivering. Adam rubbed soothing circles on his back until the man had calmed down enough to let go.

Then he was back to his regular self, all smiles and flamboyant gayness, and if it weren’t for the red rims around his eyes and the fact that he’d been holding tight just a couple of seconds before, Adam would never have suspected. He had to give Andre credit. He was resilient, always bouncing back. He shook the pants and jacket out carefully and put them on one of the empty mannequins.

Looking at the design, Adam had to admire the cut. It was unlike either his functional armour or his regular street wear. No, this was a set for someone who could hold their own and the Kevlar laced material was proofed against bullets and knives, with reinforcing at the joints. Adam approved and was about to tell Andre when his phone beeped.

He took it out and flipped it open, expecting a message from Gee, but he saw Allison’s number on his screen instead. She’d sent him a file. Adam tapped the receive button and watched as it downloaded. He pulled up the file once it was down and scrolled through it. It was a job. A relatively straight forward job that would make for a good starting point.

Adam heard the curtains clink as they were pulled back and he turned to look at Juniper. Andre turned too and winked at the datarunner. He was doodling something on a sheet of paper but covered it as soon as Adam glanced that way. Adam rolled his eyes and left Andre to his secrets.

“Ah, Juniper...” Andre folded the paper and tucked it away, “I should have this ready... Say tomorrow?”

Juniper nodded, “That sounds fine, I mean that's great. I don't think we've even got the first job worked out?” He looked over at Adam for confirmation.

Adam held up his phone, “Firecracker just sent me details. Drew should be sending them on to you as well. It's looking like we might be running tomorrow night. I need to work a couple of things out with you before then, if that’s okay?”

Juniper poked his wrist comp, “Looks fairly straight-forward but I have a while yet if you know what we need to talk about?”

“Sure...” Adam said. He looked to Andre, “Can we use your back room?”

Andre waved off the question, “Uh huh, whatever you need, babes.”

Adam wasn’t even sure that Andre was listening. He had that faraway look in his eyes, and the paper was out again. Adam paused for a second, just watching him worriedly, but Andre met his eye and nodded.

Adam plastered on a smile and turned back to Juniper, “He's going to be doing that for the next couple of hours... Communing with the material, or something! It’s through here,” Adam gestured to the back room.

Juniper stepped in and Adam followed him. He watched Juniper look around the room, taking in the plush couches, the small kitchenette, the big screen TV and bolts upon bolts of fabric.

“Wow,” Juniper breathed.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “it's a bit of a mess, but it works for him. Grab a couch...”

“That wasn't actually what I meant,” Juniper said as he took a seat.

“Oh?” Adam asked, curious.

“It's ...fairly grand,” Juniper gestured to the room, “Even for _Dorsett Gibson_.”

Adam shrugged, “Drey likes to be comfortable while he works. And well.... he tends to get caught up in his work. Falls asleep back here every so often until Gee picks him up.”

Juniper’s eyes widened, “Gee? Gibson? As in Sven Gibson?”

Adam smiled, “Yeah, they're equal partners in this place.” Adam thought for a second and corrected himself, “Well, kinda.... Drey creates, Gee does everything else.”

“Good for them.”

“They're kinda cute together,” Adam admitted, before leaning in and whispering, “but I never said that!”

“Duly noted,” Juniper said, dryly, “You had questions about the job?”

“Yeah, I do,” Adam admitted, “You've read the brief?”

“Yeah,” Juniper nodded.

Adam pulled up the file, “It’s not difficult but I think that it’s going to be a nice starter job. Someone in City Hall has been bought by a couple of the big name corporations and he’s been feeding them information, classified information, that’s been letting them pre-empt and counter every piece of new legislation or initiative that City Hall sponsors. Firecracker pulled the tech spec for City Hall. Physical security and electronic security is easy enough, what are you thinking about the data side?”

Juniper scanned the information and took a breath, “There's a couple of firewalls that they don't list on those. I know the setup. Do we know who's the contact for the corps?”

Adam reviewed the information, “Yeah, it's a guy called Michael Kurovski. We've got his office number and log on name here as well. Bank accounts say he's been doing this for about three years now. He's a file clerk with access to everything.”

Juniper tapped his fingers on his leg as he worked through the information, “That login isn't formatted right. He's missing a couple of 0's. I wonder...” He tapped some commands on his wrist comp, “I'll need to do a preliminary run tonight to check for off-sites but my best guess at the moment is that server,” he showed Adam on the schematics, “And there are three other access points - here, here and here.” He highlighted each of them.

Adam thought about it for a second, “Okay, that means that we've got six entry points to consider. Let me know what comes out of your prelim tonight and I'll plan us a way in based on that.”

“Also, I know City Hall did a security upgrade lately - _Fortress_ special if I recall right,” Juniper said.

Adam nodded, “I know, I've factored that in. _Fortress_ ' City Hall contract is a capture contract. They aren't big on stopping people breaking in. It's the breaking out that's tricky. I've run with _Fortress_ breathing down my neck before.”

“Okay,” Juniper tapped on his wrist comp and considered, “They'll probably beef it up a bit; _Fortress_ is renewing their bounty-hunter licence this quarter and they tend to show off a little in the month or two before hand.”

“Agreed,” Adam said, “Rumours are out that something’s happening in the East Quarter tomorrow night. That'll get some of the heat off of us. I'll go over it tonight, talk to a few people...” Adam shrugged.

Juniper nodded, “Okay. That works.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “Let's do our prelim tonight and talk in the morning. Is that good for you?”

“That sounds fair. When and where?” Juniper asked.

Adam worked his way through the places they’d met before but most of them were out. If they were going to do this, they’d need to meet early and then sleep for the rest of the day to be ready for a midnight run. Adam didn’t want to force Juniper into meeting somewhere non-neutral, but at the same time, there weren’t a lot of options. In fact, there was really only one option and Adam hoped that Juniper would go for it. Whatever research Juniper had done had probably turned up the connection but even with his personal link, it was probably the best place to meet and the only place that Adam could guarantee privacy.

“ _Idolize_ is open from 11 and fairly quiet...” Adam shrugged, “Unless you want to suggest somewhere else? I'm fairly easy.”

“Well, I have to come back here anyway so it depends on that.”

Adam shrugged off his concerns, “Drey will keep it until you pick it up. I can drop you over here afterwards.”

Juniper was hesitant, “...okay, I guess.”

Adam smiled, “Anything else you need?”

Juniper shook his head, “I'm good.”

Adam snapped his phone closed and sat back, “Okay. I think we're sorted for now. Just ask the guys at the door for me tomorrow, they'll point you in my direction.”

“Alright,” Juniper agreed. His mouth opened to add something else but his wrist comp beeped and cut him off, “And that's my ride. See you tomorrow.”

Adam walked him out, “See ya tomorrow, Juniper.”

Juniper waved to Andre on the way past, “It was really nice to meet you!”

Andre waved a hand distractedly. Adam didn’t follow him to the door, but he did watch through the window. It was the same bike as before, with presumably the same guy at the controls. And yes, Adam may have growled a little when he saw Juniper’s arms tighten around the other guy’s waist.

“Oh my God!” Andre threw up his hands, “Just... I don’t know. But do something already. He’s cute. You should totally hook up with him.”

Adam rolled his eyes and laughed off the designer’s words, “I gotta sort out a couple of things for a run that’s coming up. But I can stay here until Gee gets back. You want me to?”

Andre took a deep breath and looked up, “Would you mind?”

Adam pulled him into a hug, “Course not, Drey.”

 

The staff were already waiting by the backdoor of the club when he arrived just after half nine, chatting and joking. Adam rolled his bike to a stop and killed the engine. He looked around as he dug through his pocket for his keys.

“Baby, I didn’t think you were in today. Oh, I’m so glad I swapped my shift with Marcus!”

Adam rolled his eyes as Carlos pushed himself off the wall and was plastered to his side in two seconds flat. Honestly, Adam had seen jet planes move slower.

“Morning,” Adam greeted Carlos when he could get a word in, “Morning everyone. Everyone ready for the chaos of the lunchtime shift?”

They laughed, and Adam swung his leg off the bike – something made infinitely harder with a fifteen stone man hanging off his arm. Adam neatly unhooked himself as soon as he was able and opened the door. Ducking inside, he tapped in the security code, and verified it with his biometric scan. As soon as the alarm stopped beeping, Carlos was beside him again, chattering in his ear and really he didn’t need this. He hadn’t gotten to bed until shortly before five but he’d promised Allison that he’d open up for her. She’d worked the close last night and she’d be working the close again tonight. Getting up early was the least he could do for her.

“So, what say you and I go down and deal with the deliveries?” Carlos waggled his eyebrows at Adam.

Adam cut him down straight away, “There aren’t any deliveries scheduled today.”

“I know that...” Carlos started, his fingers walking up Adam’s arm, “... and you know that, but...”

Adam took a breath, “Carlos, no! We had this conversation before. I’m not interested.”

“You don’t know what I can do with my...”

Adam cut in, “No!”

Adam turned and walked away. He really didn’t want this to devolve into a screaming match in the middle of the club, and with Carlos, that was a very real possibility. He had a ton of work to do, paper work that had to be signed off, floats to be counted before the club could open for the day, and right now, Carlos was getting on his last nerve.

“Whoa boss, coming through,” a voice came from behind him.

Adam sidestepped neatly, “Get a new car, Trace.”

“Pay me more, boss,” she replied as she ran past and Adam laughed.

“Silverfyre... Adam...” Carlos whined.

Adam stopped but didn’t turn to look back at the other man, “Go help Trace restock the bar.”

“But...”

Adam didn’t stay around for the rest of the sentence. He ducked into Allison’s office and closed the door behind him. It was probably cowardly, and definitely just postponing the problem but so help him, if the boy wouldn’t take no as an answer, Adam was going to have to resort to violence. And he really didn’t want to do that. Carlos was annoying yes, but he couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. Carlos didn’t do guns, he didn’t do blades which left him woefully unable to defend himself if Adam did strike out.

Adam worked hard, and managed to get everything sorted out by half ten. He delivered the stocked register drawers out to the bar and watched as they were loaded into the registers. Not many people used regular money any more, favouring instead cred chips. They worked like disposable credit cards, but were smaller and easier to carry around, but for some reason, people still liked to use notes and coins when they went to a club. Seemed a little odd to Adam but it was their choice and as long as they were spending it in _Idolize_ , he didn’t care if they paid in gold bullion.

“Trace,” Adam called, “Need you to sign off on the registers when you’ve got a minute.”

“You got it,” Trace wiped her hands and came over to check the paperwork, “Looks good to me.”

Trace was the bar manager, and in the relative scheme of things, she was third in the chain. She was in her mid-thirties and during the day, quite plain. And Adam didn’t mean that in a bad way. She had shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes so clear that he’d sworn they had to be cybernetic the first time he’d met her. They weren’t. During the day, she didn’t bother with makeup and just tied her hair back using an old barrette. But at night, when the club came alive, she disappeared into the back and came out looking like she should be a VIP and not tending bar. But quite possibly the best things about her were the fact that she had an awesome personality and a killer sense of humour.

Adam looked around and noticed someone missing, “Where is he?”

“DHL delivered some packages. Carlos volunteered to show them where the office is,” she shrugged, “That was...” she looked at the clock, “twenty eight minutes ago. I got ten creds that Mr. DHL is outta here in about two minutes. He never lasts more than thirty minutes.”

Adam shook his head, “Hell of a rebound.”

“Don’t take it personally, honey,” she patted his arm, “he’ll be back on your case as soon as he’s done.”

Adam sighed, “I’m gonna be over by the stage. There’s a guy going to drop by later. If I’m not by the stage, send someone to get me?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Trace agreed.

The stage was his baby, his idea from the beginning and Allison left him to it. For the most part that was great, but it did mean that if there was a problem, it was his job to sort it out. He’d gotten a message last night from the house bassist telling him that the mixing deck had blown a fuse. Thankfully there was a backup, so they hadn’t had to cancel the live acts, but the backup didn’t hold a candle to the fully rigged box that Adam had shelled out for.

Grabbing a toolkit, Adam started to take the back off. He actually liked tinkering with technology. It wasn’t a hobby exactly, but rather something he’d picked up for work. You never knew when you were going to have to disable the electronic security or cut the power to a building, which brought Adam neatly back to the job that he and Juniper were running that evening. If everything went to plan, they’d be golden, and if Juniper was as good as Adam thought he was, it was going to be a walkover. Adam was starting to have a really good feeling about this partnership.


	12. Chapter 12

"Gooooood morning, maggots!" Cale's cheerful shout startled Kris clear off the couch and he landed in crash of beer cans and bottles. His back and shoulders were one massive knot of stiff muscles. The time clock on opposite wall clicked over to 05:55 as one of the beer cans rolled under the desk. The mechanics sprawled out on air mattresses on the shop floor were already cursing and Kris could hear the wheeze as air leaked out as the shop grudgingly began to wake up.

Kris groaned into the carpet and pushed himself up. "I really hate you."

"That's a horrible thing to say," Cale was grinning, teeth bright against the grease stains on his face. "After all these years and my kind offer of a place to stay."

"I said thank you last night," Kris stretched gingerly. "After a night on that couch, I'm thinking I was too hasty. And that Drew still owes me a favor. It wouldn't cost him a lot to put out a contract, would it?"

"Asshole," Cale said comfortably. "More than your broke ass can afford, that's for damn sure."

"I appreciate the crash space," Kris winced as his spine popped. "But seriously, I'm staying in a motel tonight."

"You're going to pay for a roach-trap instead of just sleeping here?" Cale snorted. "With what non-existent cred?"

"I'll come up with something," Kris yawned and scrubbed at his eyes. His wrist ached a little and he rubbed his thumb against the recessed port holding his plugs. He was going to need to upgrade soon. Most connectors were only guaranteed for eighty four months and he was starting to skate closer than he liked to that timeline. The steel settings were fine, Kris had never had any rejection problems with any of his cyberware like the nightmare stories that cluttered up most of the data-runner forums and message-sites.

The microwires that connected the plug to his nervous system were the real worry. A frayed microwire could short out and fry the whole implant or worse; accidentally plugging his nervous system into the mains, even filtered through the deck, would be spectacular and very, very fatal. Kris ran through his current finances and winced again.

He was going to have to do something about that or he wasn't going to make it to the job. Kris ran over the figures in his head again. It sure as hell wasn't going to be cheap; being a datarunner meant a life on the cutting edge of technology and while his programs could make up the difference against a newer deck, they weren't going to be able to compensate for a complete hardware failure. Kris has been damn lucky so far but he'd be a fool to count on that luck.

Something flashed in his peripheral and Kris' hand snapped up just in time to catch the aerosol. He looked over and Cale was watching him. The first grey light of the morning was shining through the blinds, cutting light/dark lines across his face. He looked more like Chronos than he has for years and for a second Kris could see the original laughing, smooth face that Kris remembered mapping one night with a crude laser array and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Then Kris blinked as Cale shook his head, smiling fondly down at him and it was here and now again. He looked down at the can, shaking it a little to try to figure out what his best friend was throwing at him when he was too tired to defend himself. The can was narrow and painted a glossy wine-red that looked ridiculously pretentious and there was something written in loopy silver letters on the side. Kris has to spell it out word by word and he blinked.

"Are you calling me a douche?"

Cale cracked up and Kris really hoped he hadn't thought to take a picture of Kris' expression. Then Kris saw 'petit' in tiny white letters at the very top of the can and it clicked.

"Hey, you wanna Insta-Showah instead, I got that too," Cale managed.

"The fuck is this?" Kris peered at the small label. "'Manly cologne aroma'? Designer soap molecules?"

"Language, Kristopher," Cale chided. "It's the deluxe, super-duper upgrade to Insta-Showah. Only the best for my boy."

"You suck," Kris said and Cale burst out laughing again, unlocking the shop door and waving to the grubby towels hooked over the handles on the top drawer of the battered filing cabinet.

"I'll let you get cleaned up. Need to get working on Speedz's suspension," he jerked a thumb at the desk barely visible under the stacks of paperwork. "Data port and mains point are there, I'll come get you for your meeting about ten thirty. Don't drink all the coffee."

"I can get a bus," Kris protested half-heartedly and Cale arched a profoundly skeptical eyebrow. "I could."

"Possibly," Cale rolled his eyes. "Or, given that this is you, you'd get on the bus with one of those crazy mercs who isn't going to be as polite as this Silver-fury guy about not taking no for an answer. Then you'll say something snarky and if we're very lucky, Drew will find enough of you in the local Body Bank to hold a real funeral over. I told you that I don't mind ferrying you around until we get that poor bike back into working order. Stop with the martyr act, okay."

"Fine," Kris groused, pulling the bag with his deck out from under the couch and checking for beer stains. The door closed behind Cale with the click-click of the locks engaging and Kris went to start rearranging the piles of paper to free up the data-port.

The can of 'petit-Douche' stung like an industrial cleaner and the 'cologne' made Kris smell of cheap artificial flowers. The towel had a big grease stain in the corner and Kris had to scrub away the residue with the cleaner corners. He still felt greasy afterwards but he no longer smelled like stale beer and sweat. It would have to do.

His deck booted and Kris counted nanoseconds, wondering and worrying. Was it too long? A data-runner was a slave to the boot-time and the idea of being plugged in and dead to the world while people with guns came looking for him made Kris retch involuntarily.

Nothing for it then, he thought as he popped the seal over his plugs. The job Drew listed should be a cakewalk and if Silverfyre didn't mind waiting for Kris to pay him back for the armor, it might be lucrative enough to get Kris the basic components for a better deck. (Christ, how much did a full set of custom _Dorsett Gibson_ cost anyway? Kris was going to have to look that up.)

The connection clicked into place and Kris closed his eyes, head tipping sideways to rest against the wall as the 'Net rose up around him. It was brighter, closer here and Kris looked at the flashing connections, thinking of speed and clock-cycles and too much needing to be done with too little.

Nox was waiting, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet when Kris brought the suite online. Virago was leaning back against a 3D construct of the _Trojan_ building, littered with employee profiles and Chronos was watching a fuzzy image of Cale that looked to have been lifted from the shop's security cameras. The security program's face pixelated, the fine lines of code remapping to match the recording.

"Don't," Kris said without thinking. Chronos' face pixelated again, resetting as Kris watched. "Just, I don't know, be yourself."

Chronos looked pleased and Virago tipped her head to look at him. Kris rubbed his face and wondered when exactly Chronos had stopped being a cyber-copy of Cale and started looking like himself. Kris was not really in the mood for an existential crisis and a quick glance at the system's clock told him that he probably didn't have time anyway.

"I need information," Kris said instead, snapping his fingers to bring up his notes. "Everything you can get."

A light touch broke the notes into three sections and the programs disappeared, vanishing into the data-streams and flashing out of sight. Kris rolled imaginary cramps out of his shoulders and dived in after them. His own to-do list flickered on a temporary file in his ikon's memory and Kris started looking for the sites he needed.

He didn't keep track of the time. It was only when Cale forcibly logged him out using the EUMI emergency interrupt that Kris noticed how late it had gotten. Cale had a bundled up hoody and a cup of tar pretending to be coffee but first Kris had to sit on the floor with his knees drawn up and his head down. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on breathing for a minute before the world stopped feeling like a faked up projection from a malware program.

Cale hovered until Kris managed to lift his head long enough to say "Do we need to have the 'bad-touch' conversation about my deck again?"

"Big red button," Cale said placidly, tapping the touch-screen and watching it flare red. "Data-runner back in the real world. I don't see the problem."

"The green button lets the data-runner keep his brains," Kris pointed out, cracking one eye open to see if the world was still spinning and swallowed hard a couple of times before taking the coffee. "The red is supposed to be for emergencies, dick. You could have fried me."

"Duly noted," Cale said, the slight frown belying his casual tone. "You want goose down pillows and peeled grapes while I'm at it?"

"Fuck you," Kris gulped down some coffee, glancing at the clock. 10:34. Shit. "Oh, man! I'm gonna be so late."

Cale snorted, unplugging the deck and shoving it haphazardly into the bag. Kris staggered to his feet and Cale nimbly dropped a massive hoody on his head. Kris wrestled it on and looked down. The clunky 'Gears'n'Fears' logo took up most of the back in dark red and it hung down to Kris' _knees_.

"If you laugh at me," Kris warned as he snapped on his wrist comp. "I will be obligated to kick your ass. Just saying."

"Like I'm going to laugh at my newest walking promotion," Cale sniffed. "Come on, move your ass or you'll be late."

Cale's bike - _his_ bike, not the beat-up runaround he used when he was in a rush - was a refurbished 1980 Harley Davidson with a modern Knucklehead X19 engine, ultramodern shocks that were new since Kris had seen her last and she roared like a tiger when Cale opened her up. Cale had called her Kate and painted the red/orange flames on her fuel tank by hand over five endless weeks. Kris had built the interface module from spare parts for Cale's fifteenth birthday and they'd left Arkansas crowded together on her battered leather saddle four days later.

He didn't bother with a helmet. Cale on a bike was grace incarnate; Cale on Kate was damn-near unstoppable and Kris trusted him. Besides, they had twenty minutes and _Idolize_ was only about seven miles away. He tucked his bag between them and held on to Cale's sides, a non-verbal request that Cale respect the sound-barrier, if not the speed limit. Cale must have been feeling generous because they stayed under sixty the whole way to the club.

Kris wasn't sure what he expected _Idolize_ to look like. He never really went to clubs even before he moved to the Gauntlet where drinking happened on the street or down alleys or in _Reavant's Repose_ if it was a special event or they'd gotten hold of more serious money.

He didn't expect it to look like a concrete shoebox, grubby and grey. His wrist comp beeped, the suite alerting him to the comprehensive security systems. Kris ran an experienced eye over the specs, noting with a certain amount of satisfaction the small black icon indicating the Ninja program had already subverted them. Nothing generic that he could see in any of the systems.

"Good?" Cale asked, turning to look at him.

"Good," Kris nodded and swung his leg off the back of the bike. "See you later?"

"Tell Chronos to drop me a line when you're ready for pickup," Cale sat back into the saddle, arms folded in a relatively subtle hint that he was going to wait until Kris was safely inside before leaving. Kris rolled his eyes, nodded and hooked his bag over his shoulder. He started towards where the neon sign was flickering to life over a massive set of security doors, shutting off his wrist comp.

There were two security guys blocking the door and sipping at barrel sized paper cups. They were both armed and the dark suits they were wearing looked too stiff to be standard armored polyester. Each of them would make three of Kris easily and he could see the crosshairs in their eyes. He swallowed a little and stepped forward. Both guards looked down at him as he hesitated in front of them. "Um, hi. I was supposed to meet Silverfyre here?"

The bouncer on the right looked Kris up and down and nodded to his partner. The second bouncer put his coffee down and ducked inside through the security scanners. The first bouncer turned back to Kris. "You got a name?"

"Juniper," Kris looked down at his hands, wondering if he was supposed to offer to shake hands.

"Ah," the bouncer set his cup down and folded his arms, leaning back to stare at Kris. Kris fidgeted nervously, trying not to notice how the green lines of his crosshairs tracked his every move.

The bouncer lifted a hand to his ear, listened for a second and nodded. "He's inside. Fiddling with the sound deck by the stage. Technically we don't open for another half an hour but he's expecting you."

"Okay," Kris bobbed his head and tangled his fingers in the strap of his bag. "Um, thank you."

The scanner beeped as Kris pushed the door open and the bouncer turned to look at him suspiciously. Kris hurried inside, ducking past the second bouncer coming out.

The interior of _Idolize_ was a lot more like Kris' mental image of a club that Silverfyre worked from. There were drapes, plush red and gold and free-standing tables that seemed to be mostly glass with delicate-looking steel chairs that were probably just wide enough to fit half an ass-cheek on. The bar was along the far wall, a meandering S-shaped curve that tapered towards a small but absolutely real stage with speakers set in the walls in fan-shaped patterns that made no sense from an audio quality point of view. Kris wondered if they even worked.

Silverfyre was sitting on the edge of the stage with a screwdriver in his hand and most of a sound deck spread out on the stage beside him. His boots were scuffed and half-laced and he was thumping a heel against the stage as he sang along to ' _God made you on a Monday_ ' which was playing on the overhead. His hair was, well 'messy' didn't quite work; Kris was fairly sure Silverfyre had spent more time on his hair that morning than Kris spent on his own hair in a week but it looked more natural, more relaxed than the stiff crest Kris was used to.

He was wearing a faded black T-shirt with 'Heart of a Bullet' in mostly washed out glittery letters and his combats were frayed at the seams. One knee was actually worn clear through and as Silverfyre tapped his heel to the beat, flashes of bare skin showed through. Kris' eyes flicked down and ...were those _freckles_?

He tripped over his own feet, only just managing not to fall face first into one of the tables and Silverfyre looked up. He looked different and it took Kris a second to realize that it was because he was only wearing eyeliner and he had more freckles just visible under the thin layer of foundation and Kris felt an uncomfortable prickle down the back of his neck and hunched his shoulders a little, feeling clumsy and awkward.

He waved hesitantly, looking around at the steel and glass steps leading up to the VIP area to hide the blush he could feel spreading up his face. "....morning."

"Hi," Silverfyre smiled wide and bright. He put the screwdriver down and dropped lightly onto his feet. "Jeez, I lost track of time."

Kris fidgeted and shrugged uncomfortably. "No big deal."

Silverfyre clipped the circuit boards back into place and put the audio deck aside, waving Kris towards one of the booths in the back. "So, how'd you make out last night?"

"They've got a lot more security than they should have," Kris said bluntly, thumbing his wrist comp. He plugged it into the display and the surface of the table flickered to life. "And the guy's a mark, not a broker."

"Yeah," Silverfyre sighed, scanning the files Kris was bringing up on the display. "That's what I've dug up as well."

"There's a secured server where the client thinks the data might be stored," Kris highlighted the relevant part of the brief and the relevant server on the blueprints. "But it's connected to the network." Silverfyre nodded and Kris shook his head. "I don't think they'd risk having this info on anything that a sysadmin might wander into."

"Okay..." Silverfyre studied the schematics again. "You have any idea where the actual data is? Everything I have is pointing to Rosen's supervisor, but I'm not sure it's not a plant."

"There are two possibilities," Kris answered the first question, keying the blueprints into a 3D display and highlighting both potential servers. "There's a small, encryption-keyed server in this office," he pointed to the flashing red dot. "That looks like they bought it for ten creds down at Chipz'n'Boards. Or there's a server here," Kris tapped the second dot in the office labeled 'DEPUTY FOR ROADWORKS'. "That's probably an Armitage A6X judging by the power consumption it's pulling down. 1039-bit encryption at least. No external connectors and no wireless connectors at all."

"That's a deputy's office isn't it?" Silverfyre was tapping at the display, bringing up the exec in question's profile. "That puts it a lot higher than a supervisor, if that's where they're storing the data. Gut feeling?"

Kris rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't keep pizza money in a Chipz'n'Boards server. If it's there, it's in the Armitage."

Silverfyre smiled like Kris had said something clever and Kris tucked his hands into his armpits so he wouldn't knock over his bag or something stupid and clumsy like that. "So that means we're going to the corner office. That's going to be more difficult. Not impossible, but difficult."

"The security system is a _Fortress Panzer 3_ ," Kris said confidently. "Nothing my programs can't handle."

"I've got..." Silverfyre sat back and closed his eyes. He had unfairly long eyelashes, Kris noticed before he looked away. Silverfyre was tapping his fingers on the table thoughtfully, sending ripples through the ghostly model. "Two ways in and three ways out from there, if we do it before they change the patrol routes."

"You're the expert," Kris said carefully. "What do you need me to do?"

"Do you have anything that you need to get? Any upgrades? Anything other than the armor?" Silverfyre opened his eyes, sounding distracted. Kris looked down at his wrist comp and smoothed out the wire, thinking over his mental to-do list. His plug tingled, a feather light reminder of the microwires fraying under the skin and Kris rubbed his thumb against the lump of his implant. Silverfyre's eyes flicked down and Kris let his hand drop casually.

"Got my deck, got my balls," Kris patted his bag and winked. "Shouldn't need anything else for this."

Silverfyre's smile split his face and he laughed out loud, slapping the table to steady himself. He looked delighted and Kris couldn't help but smile a little. Silverfyre caught his eye and Kris felt the sudden heat right down to his toes. He swallowed and looked away.

"Okay, let’s look at which way would work best for where we need to go," He tapped the display, calling up a flat-plan map and started to trace access routes "We start here. Patrols are on a 10 minute rotation so...we'd have to be quick but it's possible."

"They've got motion sensors here," Kris circled one of the stairwells.

"I know," Silverfyre smirked. "I got a couple of ways around them."

"Okay," Kris checked the power-usage profile of the private server. "If it's an Armitage, that's three minutes to crack, copy and erase the intrusion log-"

"Okay," Silverfyre nodded. "That'll give us a safety net of 60 seconds."

"I haven't done much with the newer models," Kris warned. He hadn't done an onsite hack in years. "Better add forty seconds to the worst-case scenario. That's the safety net down to twenty seconds."

"Is that enough time or do I need to factor in more?"

Kris looked at the route and struggled to think. He wasn't the merc! How was he supposed to know?

"It should be enough time but that's leaving very little to work with," he said doubtfully.

"Okay, so... That's okay. I can... It's fine," Silverfyre was staring at the map, frowning. "That just means we need to fall back to the second option. That gives us an additional twenty seconds." He sighed, "that means I need to bring a kit for electronic security. The level 4 kit should cover all eventualities..."

"What's in your level 4 kit?" Kris asked and Silverfyre pulled up a list and spun it to face him. Kris ran down the list, asking a few questions about tools he didn't recognize and a few upgrades that he hadn't had a chance to try for himself. Silverfyre answered easily, listening when Kris suggested a change. After half an hour, Kris sat back. "Right, that's everything for the moment, yes?"

"I think so," Silverfyre stretched his arms up over his head and Kris looked away as the worn t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. He was blushing again and when in God's name had he regressed to sixteen? "We just need your armor. Want me to check with Drey and make sure it's ready?"

"Yes, please?" Kris managed. His accent was most worn down after years in San Diego’s ganglands but the Southern twang had a bad habit of popping up when he was stressed.

Silverfyre waved off Kris' thanks, pulling his phone from a pocket that Kris didn't see in the side of his combats and tapped out a text. His phone buzzed immediately and Silverfyre read the message in one lazy flick of his eyes. "He's done."

"That was fast," Kris said lamely. He didn't know how long custom fit designer armor usually took to make but he'd been expecting at least a week's wait.

"Knowing him, he worked all night," Silverfyre said dismissively. Kris winced; he couldn't even afford the damn armor but Andre had still busted a gut getting it ready so fast. Kris felt like a serious level jerk.

"Drey is committed. If he didn't like you, he would have put it down when Gee got back," Silverfyre said casually which really didn't help. Now Kris was cock-blocking Andre. _Great._ Silverfyre grinned across the table at him. "So you wanna go over and check it out?"

"That sounds...good?" Kris said weakly. He still felt like a jerk and the armor had felt like a straitjacket but Silverfyre had talked Drew around which meant Kris could go now or be hauled over to _Dorsett Gibson_ by the ear the next time Drew saw him.

"Awesome," Silverfyre bounced up from the table. "I have my bike out back, or I can nick Firecracker's car?"

"Either's fine," Kris shut down the various mapping programs and ejected his wires, shutting down his wrist comp while Silverfyre went off to sort out whatever things he had left to do before _Idolize_ opened. His plug tingled as he wound the cable into the wrist comp's storage panel. Silverfyre came back with a long leather coat on and Kris followed him out the back door.

Silverfyre crossed immediately to the sleek Dozoi parked under the security cameras like a razor-edged shadow. Kris paused, reaching out to touch the scarred armor plate covering the fuel tank and just admired the bike.

"Oh, wow," Kris breathed. "She's a Dozoi TSR-MP, yeah?"

"Yeah," Silverfyre sat, live-wires sliding out of his wrists to dock in the recessed ports just under the handlebars and the silver flame decals lit up. The merc smiled with propriety pride. "She's my baby!"

Silverfyre fished another helmet out from a hidden storage point and held it out with an eyebrow raised. "You're okay on the back of her? I won't go too fast. Just buzz the sound barrier, I promise."

"I'm used to riding pillion," Kris felt the half-smile quirking his lip as he pulled on the helmet. "And I know how to work the controls. One punctured kidney for 'slow down', two for 'stop right this second' yeah?"

Silverfyre laughed as Kris climbed up behind him. "Yeah, that works, I guess."

Kris shuffled around a little; Silverfyre's bike wasn't quite as big as Kate but it was still uncomfortably large. The leather seat was slick and Kris was already slipping sideways just trying to find his balance. He couldn't keep his seat and his bag was pulling him off-balance. He cleared his throat and scooted forward a little to wrap his arms loosely around Silverfyre's waist. He was braced for Silverfyre to shrug him off but the merc just waited until Kris was settled before revving the engine.

"Okay?" Silverfyre tipped his head back and Kris nodded, wiggling a little. He could feel the rev of the engine up through the seat, resonating with his bones. "Okay then, hang on tight."

Kris fitted himself easily against the curve of Silverfyre's back, hanging on to the bike with his knees. Silverfyre kicked the bike into high gear and they shot through the late-morning commuter traffic at a speed that would have given a traffic cop heart failure. The wind snapped and tugged at Kris' hoody, Silverfyre's coat-tails flapping against his legs and the chill of it made him shiver as it tore away his body heat. He pressed a little closer to Silverfyre, leeching some of the heat seeping through the long leather coat.

The merc leaned into the turn and the bike surged past a clunky beige SUV that slammed on the brakes. Kris laughed, the blare of the horn trailing off behind them as Silverfyre wove expertly through the traffic. It seemed like no time at all before they pulled up in a reasonably clean alley with 'Dorsett Gibson: NO TRESPASSING' spray-painted on the wall. Kris dismounted reluctantly and fiddled with the straps as Silverfyre kicked the stand down and parked the bike.

He waved Kris over to the solid door and knocked loudly. "Drey? We're here!"

Kris turned his head in time to see the security camera pan to focus on them and a second later, the locks clicked and Andre stuck his head out around the door. He looked them up and down before beckoning them both in. Silverfyre laughed and bent to kiss his cheek, saying something about 'fatal coffee overdose' as he followed the designer in. Kris hung back, still a little overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of _Dorsett Gibson_ 's offices and a little afraid of their chief designer.

Today, Andre seemed to be a whirlwind of activity, hurrying back and forth and moving bolts of material and papers randomly. He was wearing an eye-blinding combination of lime-green and purple armor with half-zipped biker boots and a white tank top. His hair was standing up in stiffly gelled spikes and he had bags under his eyes. He finally got the fitting area rearranged to his satisfaction and came over to hug Silverfyre. Kris could see the tell-tale tremor of a fellow caffeine addict in his hands then Andre threw his arms around Kris.

Kris eeped. Slightly. In a Manly and masculine way.

"You're adorable!" Andre squealed, clapping his hands and hugging Kris again. Kris tensed up again and Andre bounced away. "Ooooh! Armor!"

"Yes?" Kris said warily, edging back a little towards Silverfyre.

Andre grabbed his hand and bodily dragged him over to the dressing rooms. Kris struggled in vain; Andre's fingers must be made of tensile steel. "In! Strip!"

"I am not nearly drunk enough to be randomly stripping for strange men," Kris said flatly.

"We're only a little strange, baby," Andre produced an armor suit from the rack beside the dressing rooms and shoved it into Kris' arms. "Strip! Now!"

"I-ah, I think he meant in the changing room, Juniper," Silverfyre was biting back a smile and Kris glared at him, retreating to the dressing room with the stupid armor. "He's just had too much coffee. Anymore and you couldn't even see him."

Kris pulled the privacy curtain across and turned to look at the armor. He looked over his shoulder at the other room where Andre and Silverfyre were giggling. He wondered absently if it would be possible to chain the curtains closed.

Pulling off his hoody, Kris tried to remember how the armor’s hundred and one different zips and straps worked again. It took nearly ten minutes; he had to shimmy and suck in his stomach to fasten the buckle on the pants but he managed it single-handedly. Kris turned to look at himself in the mirror and gulped. "Um.....it's a little...."

"A little what?" Silverfyre asked.

"...tight?" Kris managed in a mangled whisper.

"I'm sure it's fine," Silverfyre said confidently and Andre stuck his head into the changing room to peer suspiciously at him. He actually paced around Kris to study the fit from every angle and scrutinize every seam. Kris had felt less exposed the last time the PD strip-searched him and he twitched and fidgeted as Andre circled him.

"It's not," Andre said finally. "It's perfect."

Kris covered his eyes with his hands and groaned whole-heartedly. He couldn't wear this! Just the idea of walking down the street in this-! Andre smacked him on the ass, making Kris snap up with a yelp. Andre cackled and danced back out through the curtain.

"Come on out here," Silverfyre coaxed and Kris could imagine the barely suppressed smirk on his face. "Let me see?"

Reluctantly, Kris scooted out with his eyes on the carpet. Silverfyre looked him up and down and Kris' skin prickled like there were ants running up and down his back. He felt hot and embarrassed and his stomach was knotting up as the silence dragged out.

"Turn around?" Silverfyre's tone was neutral and Kris shuffled around to face the dressing room. Another long endless silence and Silverfyre cleared his throat. "You never wear tailored pants, do you?"

"My regular pants fit fine," Kris muttered, shoulders hunching despite himself.

"Uh huh," Silverfyre's tone was drier than desert sand. "Of course they do. You look good. Really good."

Kris looked over his shoulder at the merc but Silverfyre's eyes were lingering on the back of his new armor.

"You haven't even seen the best part," Andre smirked and reached out to touch Kris' sleeve. There was a hum and the armor lit up in a neat geometric pattern that looked naggingly familiar. He'd seen this pattern before but where? Kris twisted around to look at it in the mirror and from that angle, it kind of looked like a circuit diagram almost.

"Drey... Wow..." Silverfyre held his hands up and the designer bowed. "That is a kickass pattern. Damn, but that looks good on you, Juniper."

"Wait," Kris was still staring at the reflected pattern. He knew what that was. He'd seen it before somewhere. If he tilted his head, the pattern looked-"Is that? That's a first gen cyber-deck schematic! That's incredible - you even have the emergency fail-safe!"

"It seemed appropriate," Andre preened and Kris shook his head.

"Okay, important things," Silverfyre interrupted. "Can you move in it?"

"Feels okay," Kris said after stretching cautiously. The armor fitted tightly but it didn't actually impede him and it was a lot lighter than he'd expected.

"Yeah? Try it tonight? If you don't like it, we can re-examine it then."

Kris looked at Andre's face, the bags under his eyes and the bright smile then back at the faintly glowing silver lines of the circuit diagram. "....all right."

"Okay then," Silverfyre nodded and smiled. "Then I think we're good. Go get some sleep and I'll see you tonight, Juniper."

"Yeah," Kris looked at mirror, taking in the stranger in the sleek black armor one last time before he turned away. "See you then."


	13. Chapter 13

Adam waited in an alleyway about half a block away from city hall. He checked his chronometer again, only to find that not even forty seconds had passed since the last time he’d checked it. It was a quarter after midnight. Juniper was due to arrive any minute. Adam took the opportunity to check his weapons again, making sure that nothing had changed since the last time he’d checked them, or the time before that.

Nickel plated .50 caliber twin Desert Eagles strapped to his hips, hidden from sight by his heavy armored jacket, with spare magazines in easy reach and two of the specially modified magazines fitted into the quick change rig. Each loaded with armor piercing rounds, they were perfectly tooled and aligned for his requirements, and complete with flame decals etched along the barrels. Black carbon throwing blades, a neat dozen of them, tucked away into every feasible nook in hidden sheathes that he’d had Drey design for him. Each was edged until it was no more than a molecule thick at the edge and perfect for any situation. They fit his hand perfectly and flew straight. His backup gun, a nine mil special was strapped to his ankle in case of emergencies and dutch loaded with high explosive armor piercing rounds and fragmentation flechettes. Nasty either way you looked at it and something that Adam tended to use only when the shit had already hit the fan and was heading his way.

It wasn’t that he was afraid, but there was a certain element of nerves, and to Adam’s mind they were completely justified. He always felt this way before he ran with someone new. Juniper was more than new, he was, by every measure Adam could make, a rookie. Juniper may be a good data runner but Adam had no idea what he’d be like once they were in the building. He just hoped that Juniper listened to him and didn’t do something to land them in the morgue.

Adam pulled up the schematics of the building and uploaded the map into his optics, neatly overlaying the scene around him. Next, he pulled up everything that he knew about the security and incorporated it into the schematics, neatly color coding camera positions, sensors and security guard stations. He had rosters and patrol routes programmed in and ready to go once he got inside and verified the positions of the guards. He was ready, now all he needed was his data runner.

A bike engine cut through the silence that could only be found at midnight in the corp zone and Adam relaxed. He reviewed the plan again, his mind working overtime to try to capture and track any eventualities that might arise, anything that might go wrong. He had fifteen solid extraction routes worked out depending on the situation and another ten that were more nebulous. He had the updated schematics bundled and ready to hand over to Juniper so that if they were separated, he’d have access to the extraction routes too. He even had some spare hardware stored under the seat of his bike in case he needed it or just wanted the security of something strapped to the small of his back.

The bike engine cut out about a block away and Adam nodded, smiling slightly at Juniper’s paranoia. It took a couple of minutes until Juniper rounded the corner. Adam pushed himself off his bike and waved to the runner.

“Juniper, hey.”

Juniper looked around and nodded, “Silverfyre.”

“Feeling good?” Adam asked.

Juniper pulled at his jacket, and wiggled a little, giving Adam an interesting idea on how flexible Juniper was, “This still feels a little – a _lot_ weird.”

“You'll get used to it,” Adam laughed, “and well, better with it than getting shot. Take it from someone who knows and remembers all too well.”

Juniper eyed him and didn’t seem entirely convinced, “...I'm going to hope that that stays theoretical, yeah?”

“Here's hoping,” Adam shrugged, “Got an updated map for you, if you want it... I've added the security and highlighted some exit routes.”

Adam copied the files to a chip that was slotted into the console embedded in his forearm and handed it over to Juniper. Juniper slotted the chip and Adam watched him tap on the buttons of his wrist comp. The unit buzzed and a holographic display lit up. The display flipped back and forth between the older version and Adam’s updated model. His lips moved slightly and there were tiny little noises that accompanied a slight frown and then the start of a smile once he worked out whatever it was that was puzzling him. Adam thought it was adorable, but wasn’t about to admit it out loud. Especially not before a job.

Juniper blinked and focused back on Adam, “Okay, huh. Interesting choice in camera placement.”

Adam checked over the plans again, “Yeah, not sure who told them that those were good places, but it works for us. They've got some blind spots, but they'll be covered by security guards. See the red dots, that’s them.”

Juniper nodded and his eyes dropped down to the display again, “It looks like they're covering employees? Maybe?”

Adam agreed, “Yeah, that's pretty much it. I mean, who'd want to break into City Hall?”

Adam smiled at Juniper and huffed a laugh. They already knew there was a _Fortress_ contract covering the place and like a lot of corporations in the city, they thought that was all they needed, and in the majority of cases they were right. Hook the sensors up to _Fortress_ and let them watch for the lights to go red and dispatch their highly trained, heavily armed killer squads. But not City Hall. No, City Hall had gone for the foolproof option. Their contract required someone to pick up the phone and actually tell _Fortress_ that they had a problem.

It was an open secret in the merc and runner communities and still the funniest damned thing that Adam had ever heard. _Fortress_ had almost bankrupted the City a couple of years ago and all because someone hadn’t read the fine print. A couple of sensors had been fitted wrong and every time it rained, they had fritzed and _Fortress_ had dispatched their teams. After the third false alarm, _Fortress_ had started applying penalty clauses. When the bill came, the Mayor of the time – a short, bald guy that Adam couldn’t remember very well – had appealed to the citizens of San Diego for a helping hand. What he got was laughter and a nice public trial. And all for a one cred piece of tech…

Juniper’s smile was a touch reluctant but at least he was smiling, “Yeah, I know. Still, I wonder what's happening on the fourth floor that they need to watch their employees.”

Adam knew the answer to that thanks to a particularly inventive ex, “Payroll and the Mayor's office.”

“Fair enough,” Juniper took the answer without question and started tapping something into his wrist comp. He pulled his goggles from around his neck and seemed to be checking something. A light flashed green on the side and Juniper looked up, “Ready when you are.”

“Okay then,” Adam took a deep breath, “I got a few rules before we go in. You got a problem with any of them, tell me now and we'll work them out before we go in rather than half way through when people are trying to kill us.”

May as well get this out of the way now. He was fairly sure that at least one of them wouldn’t sit well with Juniper but like it or not, these were the rules he lived by and these were the rules that kept his ass out of the firing line. Non-negotiable for the most part, but he was willing to listen to what Juniper had to say.

“Okay...” Juniper looked at him curiously.

“The first is simple, listen to me and do what I say when I say it.”

If this was Juniper’s first run, then he wouldn’t know the etiquette, wouldn’t know the running order. Adam took a deep breath and pushed on, “Conceited I know, but I know what I'm doing. I'll be watching the guards and working the security angles. So, if I say stay, I mean it. And if I say run, you run,” he held up a hand when Juniper started to open his mouth, “Once we get to the tech, that's all you and I won't tell you what to do on that, but the rest is on me.”

“All right. I can work with that.”

It was a straight forward agreement and Adam could definitely work with that. But that was the easy one.

“Second rule is this,” Adam paused, “If you get a bad feeling about something, if you see something that you think is going to be a problem, you tell me straight away. I don't care what it is, you tell me. And I'll tell you if I see anything. We need to keep each other informed.”

Juniper was slower to respond this time, almost as if he was working something out in his head, but he eventually agreed, “Okay.”

Two down, one to go, and this one was the biggest and the one that Adam expected Juniper to put up a fight about.

“Last one. If something happens, if I get hit, captured or otherwise incapacitated, you run. You don't look back, you don't slow down. You got that?”

“What about you?” Juniper asked.

Adam kept his face schooled as he spoke, “It's my job to get you in and get you out. I'm not planning on going down easy, but I'll buy you as much time as I can. But you gotta do your part and run.”

When he’d met with Juniper earlier in the week, when he’d poured his heart out, Adam’d picked up something in the way he acted, something off and even managed to pin it down to Juniper getting screwed over on a job. He’d asked if the guy had forgotten the cardinal rule of running with a data runner. Mercs come and go, but data runners got the payout. They were the ones with the info. They had the chips or the passwords or whatever it was that you went after and without them there would be no payday. And yeah, no one wanted to die on a run, but it happened and all too often, but they signed on knowing the risks.

Juniper wasn’t happy with Adam’s third rule. That much showed all over his face, “...that doesn't seem....right.”

Adam shrugged, “But that's the way it is. You'll have the package, the data. You'll need to deliver that to get your payoff.”

“Yeah but it's not fair to you.”

The kid was sweet but he was missing the point.

“It's not about fair. It's about the job and getting it done. If it was fair, we wouldn’t need to run. But we do. And I need to you to agree to it.”

Juniper looked at him for what felt like an hour before finally agreeing, “I guess....all right.”

Adam didn’t bother to tell him that if the situation was reversed, that Adam would do everything in his power to get Juniper out of there. That would just complicate matters and he didn’t need that right now. Juniper was smart and would see the double standard a mile away, but if Adam was lucky Juniper wouldn’t ask those kinds of questions until after they’d taken down _Nebula_.

Rolling his shoulders, Adam smiled, “Okay then, let's go break into City Hall.”

Juniper hefted his bag onto his shoulder, “After you.”

Adam grabbed his kit bag from his bike and set the bike’s security code. Black steel plates slid down to cover the wheels and cover snapped out over the controls. She was locked down tight and would stay that way until he got back and plugged in. The kit, about the size of one of those old fashioned paper books, fitted neatly into one of the pockets of his combats, just poking out a little.

He led Juniper down through the back streets. He had to keep checking that Juniper was following him. Adam didn’t know what training he had, but he managed to keep his steps light and easy and much like Adam’s own.

Crossing to the back of the building, Adam slipped around to the kitchen entrance, neatly avoiding the arcs of the exterior cameras Juniper followed along behind him, stepping exactly where Adam stepped. Pressing against the wall, they waited for just the right moment and then sprinted the last ten feet.

The staff facilities, like the rest of the building, were deserted but this was the easiest door to crack. Adam pulled his kit from his pocket and unzipped it. He beckoned Juniper closer and laid it flat on his palms. He untucked another section and saw his signal disrupter and a screwdriver exactly where he’d put them. Taking the screwdriver, Adam carefully loosened the cover panel from over the security keypad, leaving it to hang by a wire. It was a standard configuration and nothing he hadn’t seen a thousand times before. Replacing the screwdriver, Adam picked up the signal disrupter and carefully clipped it into place, making a brand new circuit. He tapped a code into the keypad and the light flashed green. There was a click and the door opened just a fraction.

Adam hastily unclipped his signal disrupter and screwed the keypad back into place before replacing his equipment and rezipping the pouch. He put it back into its pocket and out of the way. He wanted both of his hands free, just in case. Signaling Juniper to stay where he was, Adam slipped inside to scout and make sure that security weren’t waiting just inside the door. One hand rested over a gun as he made his way across the kitchen to the door. Ducking through, he looked one way and then the other, listening for anything.

He pulled up the options for his cyber audio modules and flicked the switch that turned on the amplification. He could hear Juniper’s breath and the scuff of his shoes on the ground as he shifted, but that was it. Satisfied, Adam hurried to the back door and gestured Juniper inside. He pulled the door closed and heard it close with a soft snickt. He tapped Juniper’s arm and gestured to the green button beside the door with ‘door release’ written over it. Juniper nodded his understanding and Adam moved on.

Every door in the building that was security locked operated the same way; keypad or swipe card to open it, but once you were in, there were release buttons somewhere nearby. It was a safety thing, or so they said. Adam didn’t care. They’d have one more of those security panels to beat before they got where they were going.

Adam checked his map and kicked in the low light option on his optics. What had been dark and gloomy rooms lit only by what little light could make it in through the tiny windows was now bright and clear, if slightly green tinged. Looking out into the corridor again, Adam double checked that everything was still clear before stepping out onto the wooden floor of the corridor. He kept tight to the wall, his eyes sweeping every wall and corner. A gesture to Juniper had him tucking in behind Adam and following on closely.

With the amplified hearing, Adam could hear every squeak of movement from their shoes on the floor and winced a little. Juniper caught the expression and tapped his arm to get his attention. Adam saw the concern on his face, or at least, what little of his face could be seen under the goggles and tapped at his ears in answer. He wasn’t sure whether Juniper understood or not but the frown disappeared and Adam continued on.

They were heading to the third floor, to one of the corner offices. Best way to get there was the staff staircase. Designed for kitchen and cleaning staff, so that they could move easily up and down without drawing the attention of the rest of the workers, it was just around the corner from the kitchen. There was a lift too, but security kept those locked down. Adam moved first, stopping at the corner and listening carefully. A quick look, and he was satisfied that it was clear.

Six flights of stairs and they were on the third floor and Adam was flattened against the wall again, with Juniper beside him. Adam could hear footsteps coming closer. He chanced a look through the glass paneling on the door and saw the shadows of the men along with the flashlight arc sweeping across the floor. Adam paused for a second, focusing in on their conversation. Juniper shifted beside him and Adam held up a hand for him to keep still.

“…Hate this shit,” one of the guards said.

“Know whatcha mean,” the other replied, “Those lazy pieces of shit just sitting down there watching the game. Yeah I know it’s a rerun, man, but I didn’t getta watch it earlier. And I had money riding on that.”

“Dunno why you bet on them,” the first guard laughed, “They always lose. Won’t be different this time. What say we tell them to get off their asses and do the next patrol?”

“Yeah, I can really see them going for that. Bastards.”

Adam held his breath as the footsteps moved past them and around the corner into another corridor. Adam didn’t move, though, not until he heard them round another corner. Once they’d faded safely out of the range of his enhanced hearing, Adam opened the door and stepped inside. There were cameras on the corridor, but they were pointed at the office doors rather than down the hallways and Adam would need to disable that before they could go any further. He waved Juniper forward, pointing out the cameras even though he knew the other man had them on his map. Better safe than sorry.

Pulling the kit from his pocket again, he opened it and pulled out a tiny camera of his own, no bigger than his thumbnail. Sometimes the old methods were classic for a reason. Adam maneuvered until he was under the camera. A ten second loop should be enough given that it was just empty corridor. He captured the image on the camera and ran it through his own cyber optic processor, examining it for anything that might flag the attention of the security guards. Possibly overly cautious, but he really didn’t need a gunfight tonight. The ten second stream came back clear. There were no obvious anomalies that might key the guards into the fact that it was a recorded image, so Adam started the tricky process of hooking it up to the actual camera. Pressing a button at the back of the camera, a screen popped out, unfolding itself and then unfolding itself again until it was big enough to sit in front of the lens of the security camera. At the edge of the screen there were a number of foldout catches. Adam took a deep breath and steadied himself. He had one shot at this. Using every fiber of his wired reflexes, Adam moved, slotting the camera into place and snapping the catches down to lock tight. He secured the camera and checked that it wasn’t about to come loose before he relaxed.

Flashing a smile to Juniper, he moved further down the corridor to the target office. This was another security lock and only slightly trickier than the exterior lock had been. Ten seconds and they were in. The office was the standard type, with a couple of armchairs set up to function as a waiting room with two desks that probably came straight from a catalog. Computers, files, paperclips – there was nothing there of interest. No, what they were after was in the next office, the deputy’s private office complete with safes and a beautiful server loaded down with secrets.

Adam double checked the security in the room, not happy to see a couple of additions. He held up a hand to Juniper, stopping him from going for the office door, although the runner hadn’t taken more than a step into the room. Adam had to admit that he liked that. Juniper seemed content to take his lead from Adam, but the other man hadn’t just sat back. His eyes were moving constantly, watching and examining every corner or cove. It wasn’t just nerves. There was a certain amount of nervous energy there, there had to be, and he definitely wasn’t calm, but it was controlled. Adrenaline kept on a tight leash. This wasn’t his first run. Not by a long shot.

Adam gestured to a spot on the wall, and Juniper moved a little closer to see what Adam was pointing at, nodding when he recognized the laser tripwire. Adam dropped to his knees, crawling closer. His eyes scanned the walls for exposed wires, connectors, anything that might give him a hint about the system that these tripwires were linked into. He flipped the map down over his vision again and frowned. There was nothing about intrusion countermeasures on the buildings security plans and Adam trusted those plans. This was something the not-so-good deputy had installed himself to cover his ass. And that usually meant…

Adam scanned the office, letting his eyes search out something different, something unexpected. Sure, he could get around it, but why do that when there might be a simpler way. Scanning, scanning, scanning… BINGO!

On the underside of one of the desks, almost hidden from view, was a tiny little wireless transmitter hooked up to a simple switch. Adam scooted over to the desk and squinted at the setup. It was easy to pick out the Armitage logo on the side of the transmitter and Adam rolled his eyes. The guy had set up a nice little safety net. Trip the laser sensors, wipe the server. The guy was paranoid, and with good reason, and yeah, it probably would have caught a lesser runner. But this was Adam’s game and it would take someone a heck of a lot better than some corrupt deputy with a cheap security system to outsmart him. Adam looked for fail safes, boobie traps or anything else that meant that the guy had actually given more than a moment’s thought to his protection and when he found none, flicked the switch and watched the trip wires blink out.

Adam pushed to his feet, making sure that everything else was clear before beckoning Juniper closer. Juniper’s eyes were tracking over walls as he stepped forward and Adam smiled.

The deputy’s office door was old-school, down to the key lock. An actual key lock. Adam checked around the door for wires and feeling none, went back to his kit for lock-picks. Took ten seconds to pick the five pin tumbler lock and they were in. Adam looked around the room but everything looked good. He stepped cautiously, watching for any other little tricks the deputy might have added, but it was clear. Adam waved Juniper in and gave him the all clear.

The runner went straight for the desk and Adam watched him for a minute as he dived into his world. He pulled back a flap of skin and unfurled a connector, not unlike the one that Adam used to connect to his guns and plugged it into the server’s ports. His eyes glazed over a little as he focused on whatever he was seeing. Adam marveled at the ability. He could break into a building, take down whatever security they had, physical or electronic, but plug his brain into a computer and start trying to deal with that world… He was totally out of his depth and he knew it.

Adam left him to it, keeping an eye on him to make sure that he was okay, but moved back into the outer office, listening for footsteps, voices, anything that might mean that they were in danger. Everything was quiet for now and Adam focused on the map of the building again, watching the patrol schedules. He had a countdown running in the corner of his vision, monitoring how long they had until it would be safe to retrace their steps and leave City Hall. At the moment, the guards were patrolling the second floor, with another set walking around the ground floor, leaving two watching from the security control room. They’d have to be careful, but that went without saying.

Adam heard Juniper unplug from the machine, a smile on his face as he held up the chip before tucking it away safely into a pocket. Adam gave him a thumbs up. Once Juniper had reset everything and left the office, Adam closed the office door, relocking it – a more difficult task than picking the lock – and flicked the security system back on. He crossed the office and carefully opened the outer office door. His eyes picked over the shadows but everything was clear. He eased into the corridor and under the camera again. Juniper followed on his heels. With a practiced hand, Adam unhooked the camera and tucked it back into the kit. If they played it right, everything would be plain sailing from there.

They ducked back into the staircase and down, with a pause just as they reached the second floor for Adam to make sure that the guards weren’t in the vicinity, before going the rest of the way down.

Footsteps sounded outside the staircase and Adam flattened himself against the wall, tuning into the guard’s conversation.

“I’m grabbing a smoke.”

“Thought you quit.”

“Don’t tell my wife. She’ll skin me.”

“Boss’ll skin ya if he finds out,” the second guard replied, laughing quietly.

“Then don’t tell him,” the first guard replied. “Come on, we’ll duck through the kitchen door. Only take a few minutes. If he asks, all we gotta do is tell him that we thought we saw something suspicious.”

“Nothin’ ever happens here. You know that.”

“Don’t fucking jinx it, bastard.”

Adam mouthed a curse and just about stopped himself from thumping the wall. Juniper put a hand on his arm and Adam nodded, letting the runner know that he was okay, just a flash of anger at fate for fucking up their carefully laid plans. At least he’d put everything back the way he’d found it. The guards would be none the wiser.

The way it stood, they had two choices. One was to wait for the guards to finish up and start on their patrol again – which didn’t sit well with Adam. The second was to head to a second exit point – it upped the risk but ultimately it would get them out of there quicker, and it wasn’t as if Adam didn’t have enough exit points planned to slip an entire fucking army past these bastards. He pulled up the map and looked at the closest. The DMV offices were just down the hall and had a public access door so that people didn’t have to traipse through the entire building to pick up forms and stand in line to have their pictures taken. That was their best bet.

Adam went first, ducking out into the corridor and weaving his way down the hallway, neatly avoiding the camera arcs. Juniper waited for the signal and followed cautiously. The door to the DMV was locked but it was easily unlocked, child’s play even in relation to the rest of the locks in the building. Adam scanned the room, cross referencing against his schematics and when they lined up, he stepped in and cautiously kept to the walls, waiting until Juniper was in before relocking the door. Whoever had rigged the room for cameras had focused more on the counters than the rest of the room, but there were a few that captured the room and those were the ones that he needed to be careful of. The main door was locked, bolted and secured with an iron bar. In other words, there was no way to put it back the way it had been and Adam allowed himself one breathed curse.

He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. Fine. They couldn’t hide that they were there, so they wouldn’t. There wasn’t a month when someone didn’t break into the DMV to take their revenge after failing a test or getting their license suspended. It wasn’t a big deal and they could use that.

Adam leaned in close to Juniper, his lips right by Juniper’s ear as he spoke, “Gonna cover our tracks. Get ready to run.”

Juniper looked up at him, his eyes hidden behind the goggles but he looked a little flushed. The adrenaline most likely. Adam brushed it off and gestured to Juniper to stay by the door and Adam walked around to the cameras that were covering the room and pulled a wire cutter from his kit and neatly snipped the wires. The vid screens in the security office would be dark now and if they’d noticed, they’d be on the radio to the guards sneaking a smoke out the back.

Adam set a countdown timer to thirty seconds and let it run. Thirty seconds to verify that there had been an intrusion. Another thirty to call _Fortress_ , verify their details and log the call. A hundred and twenty after that for _Fortress_ to arrive on the scene. They could do this.

He hit the adrenaline booster and turned his wired reflexes up full. He moved lightning quick, snipping the wires to the rest of the cameras and then pulling the iron bar from the door, snapping off the bolt lock as he went. He wielded the bar like a bat and smashed through the displays and the queue dividers complete with their forms. Then he threw it at the bulletproof glass that separated the staff from the unwashed masses. The glass spider-webbed but did not shatter and that was good enough. Adam quickly smashed the quick release button to the left of the door and hurried Juniper out. He let the door slam shut behind them and stopped. With a heavy boot, he kicked the door in and watched as it splintered under the force, flying back to smash against the wall.

Fifteen seconds left on the countdown.   
One sixty five until _Fortress_ arrived.

Then they were off and running, ducking down the first alleyway that they came to. Adam couldn’t let himself outpace Juniper but that didn’t mean he was letting Juniper dawdle. And he wasn’t. He was running full tilt until they got back to the bike, no breath spared for talking or shouting.

Countdown plus fifteen now which meant one thirty five until _Fortress_ ’ AV-13 arrived, maybe less until it was in visual range.

Adam’s wires were extending even before he got to his bike and he plugged in. The wheel shields slid back neatly and the console was visible again. Pulling on his helmet, he thumbed the ignition and looked over his shoulder to Juniper who was neatly tucked in behind him, pulling on the spare helmet Adam had brought.

“Hang on. This is gonna be fast.”

The engine roared to life as Adam twisted the throttle all the way up and sped off. The revs redlined and Adam clutched, changing gears neatly, once, twice, three, four times and now he was cruising, topping a hundred with ease and climbing higher as he wove his way down city streets. The head’s up display gave him panoramic views and let him anticipate obstacles well in advance, giving him more than enough time to slip past them without slowing down. He could see an AV in his mirrors but it was far behind and not looking for him. Well, not yet, anyway. He felt Juniper grip tighter on the corners, fingers digging in but relaxing once they straightened up. He was probably going to catch hell for this later but there hadn’t really been another choice, not once they’d made their way into the DMV offices.

They were out of the corp zone now and seconds away from the edge of the Gauntlet. Adam kept to the edge this time, not dipping in. Things had been a bit strained in there recently, and he didn’t want to take the chance. There was more traffic here and he blended in a hell of a lot more than he did in the empty corporate sector of the city. He dropped his speed back down to just above the speed limit and headed for _Idolize_.

He ducked down the alleyway behind the club and rolled the bike to a stop, waiting for Juniper to climb off before swinging his leg over and unplugging. Juniper had his helmet off and his goggles and he was trembling slightly and he looked a little wired. It was probably the adrenaline, but Adam needed to make sure.

“You okay?”

“Fine, why wouldn't I be?” he answered, frowning a little.

Adam smirked. Where to start? They just pulled off a run, changing the plans mid way through and then charging across the city before _Fortress_ could find them. Honestly, he was expecting a little more shouting and asking him what the hell he’d been thinking. But he settled on just focusing on the last few minutes.

“Not everyone appreciates my driving style,” Adam shrugged.

And that was certainly true. Allison had strict rules on how fast he was allowed to go when she was riding pillion.

Juniper looked at him for a long minute, before answering dryly, “There's method to your madness?”

Adam hung his helmet off one of the handlebars. He tapped the hard shell with a finger once, twice, before looking up at Juniper, “I didn't have a chance to tell you what was happening.”

“It's not my first rodeo,” Juniper shrugged, “I figured you knew what you were doing.”

Adam watched him for a second, but there was nothing on his face to suggest that he was lying. Juniper trusted him. That was definitely a good sign.

Adam smiled, “You did good. Really good.”

“Glad you think so.”

And okay, so for the most part of it, all he did was stay in the shadows until Adam cleared the path, but the fact that he never deviated from Adam’s instructions, the fact that he didn’t just take Adam’s word but instead looked around to check whether there was anything that they’d missed, and Adam didn’t have to waste time explaining when the plan changed, it all meant that Juniper didn’t need his hand held. He might be out of practice, but he was a damned sight better than most runners who didn’t know their interface plugs from a hole in the ground. And Adam didn’t think that it would take more than one more run to get Juniper back in the game. He’d talk to Allison and get her to look for something where Juniper would have a bit more to do, something closer to a joint run.

“I do,” Adam set the security program on the bike and sat Juniper’s helmet on the interface console, “Let’s get inside and get the chip to Firecracker.”

Juniper gestured to the back door, “After you.”

Adam quickly typed in the code and the door clicked open. They could hear a heavy base beat picking up from inside the club. Adam pulled it the rest of the way open, holding it as Juniper stepped through. He waited until Adam was in and then allowed Adam to lead him through the warren of corridors that was the staff section of the club. A bouncer guarded the door out to the club floor, turning when he felt the door being pulled open. His strict and unforgiving face broke into a half smile as he spotted Adam, who patted him on the shoulder as he moved past.

Juniper ducked past just behind him, and Adam could feel him starting to draw in on himself again and sighed. They’d have to work on that.

“Wow, there's a lot of people here.”

The music was loud but it was still quite easy to hear Juniper over it. Adam looked around. There were a couple of parties in, at least one hen night – complete with pink feather boas and x-rated toys – and the rest were just people out looking for a good time. It was about normal really.

“We're generally busiest on weekends, but we get a good crowd in most nights,” Adam explained.

“So I see,” Juniper nodded, a little wide eyed.

Adam put a hand on his back and steered him towards the bar, “Come on, let's get you settled and I'll get the chip to Firecracker so she can start verifying it.”

Juniper pulled the chip out of its hiding place and handed it over. Adam tucked it away safely into one of his many pockets. Adam looked over the bar staff before holding up a hand and beckoning one of them over. It was Trace.

“Trace, meet Juniper. Get him whatever he wants, my account.”

“Um, hi, nice to meet you?”

Juniper looked nervous but Adam knew that Trace would take care of him and make sure no one hassled him too much.

“Hi honey child, what can I getcha?” Trace asked and Adam backed away, cutting through the push of people all trying to get to the bar and ducked into the back again.

Knocking on Allison’s door, Adam didn’t wait for a reply before pushing the door open. She was on the phone and speaking in rapid-fire Portuguese. Adam didn’t understand a word of it, but it was fairly obvious that she was pissed at someone. And he was just glad that it wasn’t him. She turned in her seat and beckoned him in.

Adam leaned against the wall as he waited for her to slam the phone down into the cradle and curse at it in at least two languages. She pushed her hair back from her face, finger combing it back into place, and Adam recognised it as the stalling tactic that she used to calm down.

“Problems?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing you need to worry about, just a contract that went south,” she shrugged, “It happens.”

Adam knew it did, but she’d seemed especially upset at this one. But... If she didn’t want to talk about it, then he wouldn’t try to force her.

“So how’d it go tonight? How was Juniper?” she asked.

Adam pulled out the chip and handed it over. Allison took it and slotted it into her computer, checking over the data.

“It went well,” Adam admitted, “Had a talk before going in, explained my rules. Got a bit of shit from him over the last one, but other than that, he didn’t say much. Honestly I thought he’d have more problems with them, but no.” Adam shrugged, “Stuck to them too. I didn’t have to pull him into line once. I even had to change the plan on the fly and he went with it. Doesn’t even object to my driving,” Adam added, smirking.

Allison sat back on her chair, considering, “Did he do much on the job?”

“He did what he had to,” Adam said carefully. “And he kept an eye out for anything I may have missed.”

“You won’t be able to carry him on the _Trojan_ job.”

“I know that, but I don’t think I’ll have to,” Adam admitted honestly, “He’s a little rusty, but he’s willing to let me do what I’m good at and I’m willing to let him do what he’s good at. When we were planning, he factored in contingency time based on the system. Came in well under it, but he had me prepped so that I knew we might need to change the exit route and could factor it in.”

Adam appreciated that more than anything. He hated the cock-sure newbies who swore blind that they wouldn’t need more than a minute to crack a system, when in reality it took double or triple that, and the first Adam would know is when he caught the murmured ‘uh oh’. Juniper had been specific about the timings, and fairly accurate. It made planning easier and that was always good.

“Next job,” Adam said, “It needs to be shared responsibility. He’s had the rust knocked off. But we need something more...”

“Involved?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, we need to work together. I know he can follow instructions and I know he can hack, but that’s not enough,” Adam admitted, “It needs to be bigger too. More risk. I need to know how he works when the chips are down. There wasn’t much opposition on this run.”

Allison typed something into her computer and turned to look at him.

“Just sent the info to the client, I’ll need to hear back from him to verify the data.”

Adam just nodded.

“Leave it with me. I’ll talk to Drew and see what we can set up.” She paused, “He’s very defensive of his runner. I start talking about risking his ass, I’m not sure it’s going to go down well.”

Adam didn’t think it would be a problem.

“He knows what we’re moving towards,” Adam said. “I don’t think he’s going to be a problem. If anything, he’s going to insist on more jobs. More than the three trial jobs that he’s already insisting. But I know you can talk him round.”

Allison sighed heavily, not answering.

“Where is he now?” she asked eventually.

“Out in the bar with Trace.”

“No point you waiting in here with me. Go out, keep him company. Celebrate a successful run. I’ll be out when I have confirmation.”

Adam nodded. He could see that she was still worried about the whole situation and just needed a little space. He pushed off her desk and fixed his jacket.

“You’ll try to come out?” Adam asked, “Soon?”

She looked at him, watching him for a second before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll be out. Just give me a few minutes, yeah?”

Adam leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Make sure you do,” he grinned, “I’d hate to have to have to drag you out to the bar over my shoulder. In that skirt, I’m not sure exactly what the patrons would be seeing.”

She swatted at him good naturedly and Adam was glad to see her smiling again.

“I’ll be out. Now scoot. You may be done for the night, but I have a few more people to yell at before I get to have any fun!”

Adam laughed, leaving her to it.

The first sound he heard as he pushed through the double doors was a shriek.

“SECURITY! HELP!”

Adam looked around the club and saw that a crowd had gathered at the bar. Specifically, at the bar where he’d left Juniper. Shit! Adam ran over, using his size to shove through the crowd. His hand found his guns, his connectors snaking out and ready to connect.

Security were there already, batons raised as they tried to assess the situation. Adam’s hearing neatly filtered the surrounding noises out, focusing just on the voices.

“Hold it right there,” one of the security guards, Rufus, shouted.

The other one, Alex, was hunkered down beside someone, “Carlos? You okay?”

Well, shit! That was all Adam needed tonight. He pushed down the well of anger that had Carlos’ name all over it and sought out Juniper. The data-runner was standing with his back to the bar and his hands loose at his side, relaxed but tense at the same time. His eyes never left the two on the floor except in flicks and glances. Adam had seen that wariness before. Hell, he’d done the same thing before.

Adam pushed through the last line of people and moved to stand beside Juniper. He looked down at Carlos and another guy, he thought it was Carlos’ cousin but he wasn’t quite sure, laid out on the floor. Blood poured freely from Carlos’ nose, which had to be busted in two places. Bruises were starting to form, blacking the guy’s eyes and Adam barely bit back a rather cruel smile. The two were a neatly destroyed mess.

Adam spoke quietly, but with everyone crowded around waiting to see what was going to happen, he was sure that it made no difference, “What happened?”

Allison’s voice came from behind him, and Adam moved slightly to let her into the clearing, “Yeah, what the hell guys?”

Juniper's shoulder twitched in a half-shrug, “They weren't interested in taking no for an answer.”

Yeah, that sounded like Carlos all right.

Adam turned to the pathetic figure on the floor still whimpering like a baby, “Carlos, what the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing, Adam, I swear.” Carlos tried to push himself to his feet but failed miserably, “He just went mental! Pure psycho!”

In the corner of Adam’s vision, he saw Juniper’s shoulders go up defensively and his fists clench and release, “Five minutes of getting interrogated about my sex life isn't what I'd call nothing.”

Adam looked around again, taking in the crowd. Whatever had happened, and Adam was inclined to believe Juniper on this one, they needed to get it resolved and quickly.

He turned to Rufus and Alex, “Take them into the back and check them over.” He pointed to Carlos and his cousin, “If they need it, dump them in a taxi and take them to the ER.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Rufus, who could make the proverbial brick shithouse feel small and insignificant, hauled Carlos to his feet. Alex, who was only slightly smaller, picked up the other man and pulled him into the back and out of public view. People were still milling around and watching what was going on. Adam turned to say something to Allison but she was already behind the bar and getting the staff to lay out every damned shot glass they had and filling them with a clear liquid. Trace followed on behind her and dropped coffee beans into each glass. When they were done, Allison took a match, lit it and set the first drink on fire. She waved her hand over it, and the flame bounced to the second glass and then the third and fourth and all the way down the bar until it got to the last.

“Don’t be shy, guys, grab a drink and throw it back. Just remember to put out the flames first!”

And just like that, it was all forgotten. Everyone crushed in close to the bar. Adam grabbed Juniper’s hand and pulled him sideways out of the mess, snagging two drinks with the other.

“You okay? Injured?” Adam asked, doing a visual check over the smaller man.

“I’m fine!”

Juniper was on the defensive again, his face locked down and Adam was reminded of the first time he’d met the datarunner.

Adam sighed, “Carlos is a fucking moron. Don't worry about it.”

He slid one of the shot glasses in front of Juniper, taking the other one himself. The glass was hot from the flames. Putting his hand over the top of the glass, Adam put out the flames and knocked the warmed liquid back in one go.

Juniper watched and followed suit. He pushed the glass away once it was down on the bar again, “I have to get going.”

That was not what Adam was expecting and he hoped that it wasn’t because of Carlos and that whole situation.

“Going?” Adam asked, keeping his tone carefully measured, “Your friend picking you up?”

“Nah,” Juniper shook his head, “he's got an early start.”

“Okay, so how you planning on getting home?” Adam was curious now.

“Last bus goes in twenty minutes.”

Adam arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, “Last I heard there weren't any buses that went anywhere near the Gauntlet.”

“I'm not living in the Gauntlet anymore,” Juniper admitted, a slightly bitter twist of a half smile on his lips, “Too many mercs sniffing around and I don't have the money for clean-up fees.”

Adam felt a little ashamed of his part in that, “Sorry about that.”

Juniper brushed it off, “Unless you're the guy who put two of the kids into the Body Bank...” He shrugged, “I couldn't take jobs and stay there. I knew that going in.”

“Shit... I wasn't, but I can guess who was.”

Crusader had taken a joyride around there a couple of days ago and Adam really wouldn’t put it past him to do something that vindicatively stupid.

“So where are you staying then?”

“Somewhere else,” was the only answer Juniper gave.

Adam knew he was being nosey but he was starting to feel protective of his datarunner. At least in the Gauntlet, he had the Zombies watching out for him. If he was living somewhere else now, Adam doubted that he’d have the same _tour de force_ at his disposal.

“Come on, I'll give you a lift,” Adam pushed away from the bar, “Never know what psychos you'll end up on a bus with. You heard about that guy last week?”

It was obvious from his face that Juniper hadn’t, but he shook off the offer, “It's fine, I can get the bus.”

Adam sighed, “That guy? He blew up the bus and everyone on it. Just cause he was bored and the guy beside him didn't wanna talk to him.”

Juniper shrugged, “They're used to crazies on the late bus.”

Adam had to concede the point, “Yeah... But they've got a C-SWAT warning out. Anything happens and C-SWAT are going to swoop in and do what they do best – nuke the problem.”

That was only a slight exaggeration.

“It'll be fine,” Juniper insisted.

Adam shook his head, “Where can I drop you?”

“I can manage, thank you.”

“Who's dropping who where?” Allison asked from behind the bar. She looked over to Juniper, “You're not going already, are you? I’m just waiting for the client to get back to me. Shouldn’t take much longer.”

Juniper smiled and shrugged, “Sorry, ma'am but the front desk locks the doors at five.”

“Front desk?” Adam asked, “You're staying in a hotel?”

“...motel, actually,” Juniper corrected.

“Which one?” asked Allison.

“The Starlight & Sunset,” Juniper answered.

“The double S?” Adam smacked his hand down on the bar, “Oh hell no!”

Even Allison was looking at Juniper with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Juniper just rolled his eyes.

“Oh Honey... No,” Allison reached out, taking his hand. “You can’t stay there.”

Juniper looked a little annoyed, “It's fine.”

Adam was adamant, “No, it's not.”

Juniper sighed, “Look, I needed some place to stay.”

Allison shook her head, “Oh baby, it's just not safe there.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Adam gave him a measured look, “I'm sure you can but... The double S is not anywhere near safe.”

“It's fine,” Juniper insisted again.

“The Alsatians walk in pairs in that neighbourhood,” Adam ran a hand through his hair.

How the hell was he going to make Juniper understand? That sector of the city was damned dangerous. Adam himself avoided it unless there was no other choice. Even then, if he could get out fast, he did. Riots, gang violence, random stabbings – the body lottery figures for that area alone made up at least a quarter of the city’s total every night.

“That's hyperbole,” Juniper said stubbornly.

Adam looked him dead in the eye, “No, it's not. Hookers, junkies and dead bodies... That's who stays in the Double S.”

“And broke data-runners.”

He could see Juniper’s heels going in and knew that keeping on this track would only make Juniper all the more resolute to make his way there and that would be it. He’d be a number in the morning papers, nothing more.

Allison bit her lip and looked every bit like the teenager she was, “’Fyre's right.”

“It’ll be fine,” Juniper wasn’t changing his mind.

Adam took a deep breath and tried another approach, “You've gotta have friends around the city that you can crash with.”

“Kickstand and Drew,” Juniper shrugged, “Drew's fiancée is pregnant for the third time and they're hoping this time it's viable.”

Allison gripped Juniper’s hand tighter and Adam wondered if she realised that she was probably only an inch away from hurting him. Her fingers were pressing tight into Juniper’s flesh and he could see the pads of her fingers starting to go white with the pressure. A cough and she released them.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Allison breathed, “Is she keeping her stress down? Does she have a good doc? I know a guy...”

“Bed rest. Lots of bed-rest and Drew promising not to bring work home. Kickstand's got the garage and six guys sleeping there that get up before the sun does. I'd die of sleep-dep two days in.”

Kickstand must be his friend with the bike, Adam thought. He could understand Juniper's reluctance to spend the night in a place with seven or eight big guys crammed into a small space. Plus a garage? That meant working normal hours and a lot of noise. Adam racked his brain trying to think of something he could offer, something that wasn’t just dropping Juniper at _The Grand_ out in Del Mar and just springing for a room. He could do it easily but he didn’t think it would sit well with the stubborn runner. Given Juniper’s feelings about mercs, Adam couldn't even offer Juniper his spare room.

“Well then, you can stay here,” Allison said, her tone matter of fact.

It was perfect. Allison had a spare room already made up and ready for guests. Given that she offered it to any of the staff who found themselves trapped in the club when the taxi’s refused to run, she was used to sharing. And Adam could work with that.

“I appreciate the thought but no, thank you. I'm not a charity case,” Juniper’s shoulders were back and he looked like he was an instant away from glaring at Allison.

“You good with wiring?” Adam asked.

Juniper looked from Allison to Adam and back again, his brows furrowing, “I’m a datarunner.”

Which was a yes.

“We’ve got a problem with the stage lighting,” Allison said, catching on.

“...so?”

Allison shrugged, “We'll call it even if you can fix it.”

“Uh-huh,” Juniper looked sceptical.

“Look,” Allison leaned forward, serious now that money was involved. “I got about five quotes, not one of them under a grand.”

Juniper looked around, taking in the setup. Adam saw him look at the wiring, tracking it around the edge of the stage and back up to the ceiling. He tapped his wrist comp and looked up, “It's the fuse box.  
Shouldn't cost that much.”

“You fix it, the spare room is yours for as long as you need it,” Allison promised.

Juniper looked at both of them and Adam could practically see him mentally calculating how long it would take to get to the door and his shoulders dropped, “...I'm not getting a choice, am I?”

Adam looked at Allison, who was looking back at him and they both turned to Juniper, identical smiles on their faces, “No!”

Juniper sighed, “Fine.”

“So,” Adam clapped him on the shoulder, careful not to knock him forward into the bar, “Can we get you another drink?”

Juniper caught himself on the edge of the bar, “...I guess so. Thank you.”

Adam beckoned Trace over to take their orders. She finished up with a customer, looking a little concerned, “Did you hear? Eastern section is on fire. The Hex’ went nuts, started whaling on the city. Cops are crawling all over the place. They've shut down everything from Cyberdelia over to the freeway...”

Adam’s jaw dropped. Cyberdelia was two or three doors down from the Double S. He knew he’d told Juniper that the place was dangerous but wow! Cyberdelia was a street kid hangout where they played video games and tried to get in as much trouble as they could, making a rep for themselves. Not much trouble in its own right, but it was in the middle of Hex territory, and they were known for plugging in anything that looked like it might give them an edge in a fight. Usually it just ended up driving them into cyberpsychosis and C-SWAT had to storm the sector and put them out of the city’s misery. But for the whole sector to be shut down tight...? There was some serious shit going down there tonight.

Adam turned to give Juniper a knowing look.

“I would have been _fine_ ,” Juniper said but Adam could hear the beginning of resignation and he knew that they’d done the right thing.

Adam wisely chose not to say ‘I told you so’, but rather turned to Trace, “Can you grab us a couple of drinks?”


	14. Chapter 14

Kris woke up early, convinced for the first hazy half-second convinced he was dead. There was actual sunlight shining through the window and the sounds of early morning traffic were almost completely muffled. If it hadn't been for the familiar armor draped across the chair by the bed, it might have been heaven. Kris' expectations were somewhat lower than they used to be.

Sitting up, Kris checked automatically for his bag, half-hidden under his discarded armor and breathed a sigh of relief. The Gauntlet had never been 'safe' but it was at least familiar. _Idolize_ was too quiet, the smallest sound making him jump. He only looked at the time until after he had confirmed his deck and the few weapons he carried were still there. It was only eight o'clock. He'd been asleep maybe six hours, more than he usually managed which meant he probably had some time to explore.

Firecracker's so-called 'spare room' was more than half the size of his old apartment. It was spacious, only the big soft bed and a chipboard wardrobe filled with what looked like a very fashionable thrift shop taking up floor space. It was also surprisingly domestic, the shelves and wardrobes full of people's spare clothes and trinkets. Kris looked at the small heap that probably represented everything he owned the world. It was a depressing contrast and Kris shook the thought off, stretching out the kinks in his back.

Stubborn pride aside, Silverfyre had probably been right about the quality of the Double-S motel. Kris had only left a few changes of clothes and some spare circuits in his room, nothing worth going back for. He switched on his deck, giving it time to boot as he pulled out his toothbrush and the cheap razor. He switched on the lights in the bathroom and looked around.

The bathroom was huge, the shower looked like a modern art sculpture of glass and steel with at least three different shower heads pointing down in the glass cube. Kris looked longingly at the shower. It was small but it was a _real_ shower. Kris hadn't had a real shower for years.

Unfortunately it was also a real shower with real _pipes_ , Kris reminded himself as he finished shaving and cleaned the razor in the sink. He didn't think Firecracker would appreciate him making a racket at first light. She had been up later than he was and had probably had a lot more to drink.

The lights cut out just as Kris started brushing his teeth. Unplugging his deck brought all the bathroom lights back on and Kris was really going to have to look at that fuse-box. He switched off the bathroom lights and plugged his deck back in just as it finished booting.

Kris plugged into his deck, checking the system updates and creating a few tiny spider programs to search up blueprints and installation guides for the fuse box he was probably going to have to reinstall. Curious about the lag in boot time, Kris brought up his security menu. All three of the security sub-programs were already active and their corresponding status lights on his ikon's display were all set to busy.

Curious, Kris pinged Chronos. "`Firewall repair and upgrade in progress. LOC:192.333.444.6##689`"

He didn't recognize the network address. It wasn't the Gauntlet or Cale's shop or even the open hub from the coffee shop. It was a personalized address and it took Kris a second to parse it. S D A IDOLIZE. What the hell were they doing in _Idolize_ 's private network? Kris queried Draghos and got a comprehensive data-dump that almost overloaded his deck's buffers.

"Fine, don't tell me," Kris muttered, redirecting some processing power to parsing the feed. He'd get to it later. If Draghos was monitoring them, they wouldn't do too much damage. The spider programs were starting to return the blueprints and wiring of the club and he wanted to get some idea of what parts he was going to need before he started work.

He left them to work, redirecting the spider feeds to his goggles and logging out. He was probably going to need to order tools as well, unless Cale still has some of the kits Kris left with him when he'd grabbed the gear he'd taken with him to the Gauntlet. He hadn't really bothered to keep an up-to-date inventory since.

The blueprints the security programs had stripped from the local network were at least up-to-date thankfully. The fuse box wasn't shown, of course, because that would be too easy. The main wiring looked to be accurate so Kris settled in to trace them back. It only took about ten minutes to find the fuse box, downstairs in the back of the club. He had to clear out some old and pretty bizarre props to get a good look at it.

The first thing he noticed was the 'Tri-point Certified' sticker, proudly proclaiming that this installation had been done to Tri-point standards and was of the highest possible quality. Tri-point's entire reputation was built on their solid reliability record. Looking at the log of electric faults, Kris was not convinced. The fuse box itself looked fine but when Kris lifted off the cover, he found a spider's nest of wires, sloppily crimped and taped together.

If the whole install had been this badly done, he was going to be here for a week. Firecracker might still be getting a bargain out this deal. Sighing, Kris wired in his wrist comp in diagnostic mode and started to record what he was doing. He might as well make sure she kept her warranty.

Whoever the electrician had been, they'd botched what should have been a fairly standard installation but at least they'd had the decency to leave enough workable components to repair the damn thing. He would have appreciated it more if the tools he needed hadn't been left tangled in knots of wire.

Kris still had to tear out most of the connecting wires and rebuild from the ground up but that was the worst of the job. The install part of the reinstall was a straightforward but it was meticulous and detail-heavy work and Kris was sweating by the time he clicked the cover back in place and shut off the recording device. The fuse box’s status lights glowed green and Kris tested a few of the lights around the stage area. He hesitated over the sound system, not quite brave enough to risk waking Firecracker by actually singing something but it switched on okay at least and none of the lights cut out.

"Awesome," if he did say so himself. Kris stretched some of the kinks out of his shoulders and copied the recording of the work he'd done to a chip. If the last guy really had been Tri-point certified, Firecracker might be able to get some of her money back if she was half as good at fast talk as Drew said she was.

He tapped back into his wrist comp, rubbing at the tingle around his port and scanned the data-dump Draghos had sent him. The suite were working on the privacy suites setup in _Idolize_ which apparently wasn't up to their standards. Kris downloaded the specs and started flicking through the changes they were making.

The suite were being very comprehensive, finding little holes in the network design and coding patches that they ran through Kris' automated authentication programs before rolling out upgrades. Kris double-checked some of what they had already done and couldn't find any flaws. If Firecracker objected, he'd rip changes out later. He unplugged, wincing at the pins-and-needles feeling spreading out from his port. He was really going to have to do something about that.

Since his security programs didn't seem to need his input and the fuse box was working, Kris went looking for breakfast. It was only ten to nine and Kris hadn't had a chance to use a real kitchen since before he moved into his old apartment. He searched the cupboards to see what his options were.

There was some eggs, a few fruit cups well past their sell-by dates, some natural milk and half a fridge of bacon slices, sausages and small steaks. A rummage through the cupboards turned up some flour and a couple of zip-locked bags of coffee beans.

He went back downstairs to check the vending machines in the back room and came back with some packets of chocolate and nuts. The available ingredients filled most of the counter space and he had a vivid flashback to the slum-side shoebox of an apartment he and Cale had shared back before everything.

Kris could totally work with this.

An hour or so later, after one emergency repair of the coffee machine (seriously, how did anyone live without a working coffee machine?), Kris was sitting at the kitchen table, working out the list of firmwire upgrades that the security programs were requesting. The smell of the slow-baking muffins, fruit and melted chocolate, filled the kitchen. Kris was sipping from the biggest mug he had been able to find filled with coffee when he heard Firecracker's door open.

Firecracker came wandering into the kitchen, eyes pinched shut and hair sticking out in every direction. She was wearing teddy bear pajamas and a woolly dressing gown in bright violet with pink hearts sewn onto the pockets. She wasn't wearing any make-up at all and she looked at least seven years younger than she had the night before.

"I smell coffee..." Her voice was a rasp and she blinked fuzzily around the room like a tiny kitten. "Please God let there be some left"

"Morning, Ma'am." Kris carefully bit back his fond smile and stood up to fetch her a mug. There was just over a mug left in the pot and he filled a mug (bright blue with 'Fixers do it for the cred' stenciled on the side) and carefully wrapped her fingers around it. "And yeah, there's still a couple of mugs left in the pot."

Firecracker sipped at the coffee and moaned in a way that made Kris glad there were only two of them in the building. "This isn't coffee.... This is.... This is... I don't know what this is but this is good!"

"I promise that is real coffee," Kris topped her mug up when she had to breathe. He recognized the tell-tale signs of a fellow caffeine addict and turned back to start making another pot of coffee. "I might need to make another pot."

"Just hook an IV up and let her drip!" Firecracker shuddered dramatically and flopped into a chair, careful not to spill a drop. "God, how is it morning already."

Kris laughed as he set the coffee maker going. "I don't think the machine has an IV feed, sorry."

"You got my coffee machine working," Firecracker blinked owlishly at him from over her cup. "It hasn't worked since I bought it."

"It helps when you have it plumbed into the water and the right plugs," Kris said with a smile.

"Ooooh," Firecracker nodded, still sipping eagerly at her coffee. "I'm not so good with electrics. People I can handle, but me and tech? It never goes well."

"Your techie should have handled it," Kris said before he could censor himself. Firecracker arched an eyebrow, looking far more awake already and he shrugged. "It didn't help that the power points had the wrong voltage wired and no proper earthing."

"I don't really have a tech," Firecracker admitted with her own shrug. "I have one of the staff who can fiddle with things, but that's about it. And then there's Fyre, who does pretty much everything else."

"Ah," This time Kris managed to keep tactful silent for all of two minutes. "You should maybe have had the electrician install the fuse box next time."

"The club is a totally different beast," Firecracker shook her head, waving her mug for emphasis. "We had a professional in to check everything and fix anything that needed it - charged enough for it too - but this is the fifth major issue we've had since we opened up sixteen months ago. There are days when I just want to put a contract out on the electrician."

"...if he charged you for installing that fuse-box, you probably should put serious money on that contract," Kris said honestly. "If the circuit breaker hadn't been wired open, you'd have lost power every time you switched the floor lights on."

"Nah, a contract is a waste of time," Firecracker sighed moodily into the dregs of her coffee. "I'll probably just sue him."

"Was he Tri-point certified?" Kris asked.

"Claimed he was," Firecracker gave him a very cynical look as she set her mug down.

"Call Sparks and give him that," Kris pulled the chip of records out of his wrist comp, and slid it across the table. "They'll reimburse you and take it out of his hide one way or the other."

Firecracker looked at chip with both eyebrows raised but slipped it into her pocket. "Thanks."

"Oh, uh, if Sparks asks - my Tri-point ID is 123AZ," Kris looked away from Firecracker's pointedly arched eyebrows and turned back to the over. "It'll keep your warranty valid."

"Okay," Firecracker was still watching him and Kris grabbed a tea towel from the counter. He felt like a mouse who'd just spotted a cat. He turned back to the oven, searching for a dish towel. The only oven gloves he'd found had been bright pink latex. Kris hadn't cooked in a real kitchen for years but he's never heard of _functional_ pair of latex oven gloves. He sat on his haunches, dish towel protecting his hands as he checked the two pans of muffins, They'd need another ten minutes maybe, Kris slid them back into the oven, turned down the heat and pulled out the two plates of breakfast.

"I didn't know what you like so, uh, there's a bit of everything," Kris said awkwardly as he set the two plates down in front of her.

Firecracker had both plates uncovered and was beaming down at the neat stack of bacon and French toast with wide shining eyes. "You are an awesome house guest!"

"I've already eaten so, uh, take as much as you want," Kris folded the towel and looked longingly towards the bathroom. "I really hate to impose but, um, I really need to grab a shower."

"Towels are in the cupboard under the sink. Grab what you need. There's a clean razor in the bathroom cabinet if you don't mind your razor-blades with pretty pink handles," Firecracker said distractedly, slicing her French toast into neat slivers. "You can use 'Fyre's shower gel and stuff. It's in a bag in the cabinet. You'll know it when you see it."

"Thank you," Kris said sincerely and hurried off before she changed her mind.

Most of the bottles were aggressively pink. Kris sniffed at one of the more subtle bottles and sneezed at the wave of floral scent. He poked through the cabinet which was full of what looked like a mad scientist's paint box. There was a bag, black leather-effect with a silver zip and the trademark silver flames on the side which Kris took to be Silverfyre's 'shower gel and stuff'.

The shower was nirvana, real water, good pressure and working temperature controls. Kris could have stayed in there all day just basking in feeling properly clean for the first time in years but his wrist comp beeped after twenty minutes. Kris reluctantly dried himself off and got dressed, pulling on Cale's stupidly huge hoody over his spare jeans. Being clean and shaved felt really good but the muffins would be done any minute now.

Firecracker was just hanging up her phone when he came back into the kitchen. The smell of fresh baking was filling the whole kitchen and Kris smiled at her as he crossed back to the oven. "Find everything?"

"Yes, thank you," Kris put his wrist comp on the counter and picked up a dish towel, crouching down to open the oven door. The muffins were just about done, browned tops and crisp.

"Good," Firecracker was watching him like he'd just walked. Kris politely pretended not to notice. "So how you feeling after last night?"

"Fine, thanks," Kris flipped the towel to protect his hands and tweaked out the pans of muffins, flipping them out onto the folded towel on the counter. He wondered if Firecracker had a wire rack. "I really appreciated the use of your spare room."

"Not a problem. It sees a lot of use, although it's usually some of the bar staff who can't get home," Firecracker paused, watching him closely. Kris waited for her to get to whatever point she was trying to make. "How was the run?"

"Uh....pretty straight-forward?" Kris said carefully. He wasn't sure what she was getting at. Had Silverfyre complained about him? Had Kris done something wrong that Silverfyre hadn't told him about? He wasn't much use on the merc parts of the job but he'd assumed Silverfyre had known that would be the case going in. The job had gone pretty well, all things considered. He'd thought it had anyway. "I didn't think there were any problems?"

"No, I meant how did you find it?"

"Nothing went wrong," Kris tapped the muffins out onto some folded towels to cool. He couldn't read Firecracker's expression and that made him wary. She was a very intelligent young lady and Drew's grudging respect meant she was very good fixer. Kris tapped the bottom of the muffins, mind racing. Had he done anything last night to make her think? Had he let something slip? "That's about as good as a run gets?"

"And working with 'Fyre?" Firecracker pressed. "How did you find that?"

"He knew what he was doing and he got it done," Kris said carefully. What did she want him to say? It had been a job, they'd completed the jobo and they'd been paid. What else was left to say about it? Silverfyre had gotten everything he needed done and Kris didn't know enough about mercs to be able to offer an opinion beyond that. Firecracker smiled ruefully to herself and stood up, coming around to look curiously at Kris' muffins.

"Muffins..." She sniffed appreciatively at the closest towel-ful of muffins. “I haven't had fresh muffins since Kandy's Konfectionary down the road closed."

"I can only make like five things that don't require frying," Kris confessed, smiling a little as he remembered trying to recreate his momma's pies with a microwave and cheap foil containers over the sputtering gas hob. "But Kickstand likes muffins in the morning so I used him as my guinea-pig for new recipes back before I moved out."

"Kickstand? That's your friend with the bike, yeah?" Firecracker leaned on the counter, poking tentatively at the closest muffin. She was watching him with mischief in her eyes. "'Fyre mentioned you had a friend giving you lifts."

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Kris smiled. Cale drove him crazy a lot of the time but he'd been the bedrock of Kris' life since Kris was in kindergarten. "We lived together a few years back."

"And he still drives you around?" Firecracker was smirking openly now. "Wow, I heard of amicable breakups but I don't think that I've had any ended that ...nicely."

"Break-u-OH, oh no, no, no, no!" Kris shook his head vigorously, trying not to blush as Firecracker cackled at him. "Kickstand's a friend. A very tolerant, wonderful and very, very straight friend."

Firecracker giggled, straightening up to look curiously at him. "And you...? Straight? Gay? Bi? Don't know? None of my business?"

"Never really been an issue, honestly," Kris admitted. His sexuality wasn't something he wasted much attention on; living in the Gauntlet had cut his options to risking his neck by hooking up with a ganger and praying it didn't go wrong or a life of safe celibacy. He wasn't going to risk lying to Firecracker now that she'd had enough coffee. "I like guys more in general but it's mostly theoretical."

"Ah," Firecracker nodded, the pleased smirk back around the corners of her mouth.

Kris fumbled around, desperate for a change in subject. Just because his sex-life was effectively non-existent didn't mean he was eager to discuss it with Firecracker. "Umm, actually, I don't even know what flavor you like in a muffin."

"I'm fairly easy going when it comes to muffins," Firecracker said, after a pause to make it clear she was letting him get away with the awkward segue. "Well, except for blueberry. I can't stand them."

"I couldn't find any blueberries in the vending machines so that's not a problem," Kris assured her, testing the bottom of the muffins again. He gestured to the muffins on the striped towels. "Chocolate and walnut and those are ...mostly strawberry?"

Firecracker took that as permission and grabbed up one of each of the muffins. She sniffed at them and picked at each of them, nibbling away at the edges of the muffins. Kris pretended not to be watching her reaction, focusing on folding towels precisely. "Mmmmmm! These are good."

"Um...you should probably be careful of those," Kris said belatedly, pointing to the strawberry muffins. "They're uh...well, I soaked the berries in rum from the open bottle on the counter first."

"I can tell," Firecracker winked. "Hell of a way to start the morning."

"I didn't have anything else to balance the sweet of the strawberries," Kris tucked his hands into his pockets. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Firecracker managed around a mouthful of muffin. "It's wonderful. I really like it. How many of these do you have?"

Kris did a quick count; without the scale, he'd mostly guessed the weights and the two batches had filled all the muffin trays he could find. "About thirty? Maybe?"

Firecracker took two more muffins, one from each of the bundles. The chocolate chips on the top of the muffins were soft, leaving smears of chocolate on her hands that Firecracker licked off without a hint of self-consciousness. Kris smiled ruefully, looking at the small mountain of muffins.

"I...may not have thought this through," He just been bored and puttering around the kitchen with nothing to do had driven him up the wall. He'd have to save a few for Cale; Kickstand would get a kick out of this blast from the past. Kris' mind was only too happy He glanced up at the clock. "I was kinda thinking that, uh, morning shift might take a few of them?"

People liked fresh baked stuff for breakfast, didn't they? Firecracker laughed.

"Oh babe, they'd take your hand off for even a couple of crumbs. They're gonna love them." She paused for a second, looking calculating. "You mind if I put a couple aside for 'Fyre?"

"No-no problem," Kris managed, morbidly certain that he was blushing and looking for a fresh distraction. "Oh, yeah, that was the other thing I wanted to tell you. You'd got a back door in your firewall. Someone's trying to hack the privacy areas."

Firecracker's hand paused halfway to the muffins. "A back door? What the hell?"

"Your network is compromised," Kris tried to dumb the concepts down as much as he could. "You're running two conflicting firewalls-"

"I shouldn't be," Firecracker interrupted. "I had a redesign about six months ago."

"They redid the firewall around the accounting database," Kris corrected. "And, well, it's pretty solid but the rest of the network is covered by a different type of firewall and they're not compatible."

"Well.... shoot!" Firecracker thumped her hand down on the counter and she spun away, fumbling for her phone. "Just what we need. I got a high profile group in on Saturday night. It's on a privacy contract. I'm going to have to get that fixed before then..."

"Ummmmmm...." Kris cleared his throat. "My security programs patched it. There wasn't much damage done: you had a couple of Ghosts running but nothing serious."

Firecracker blinked, stared at him then blinked again and put the phone down. "You patched it? Already? It's fixed?"

"You could do with a few firmware upgrades," Kris said honestly. "But it's solid for the moment."

"Can you get me a list?" Firecracker asked. "Of what it needs?"

Kris nodded at the jotter pad on the table. "Top sheet, the one to six list at the top.  
I didn't mean to pry, I swear but my security programs test every network that I get close enough to-"

"That's not a bad thing," Firecracker snatched up the pad. "You should see the penalty clauses they've written into the contract for Saturday. You may just be saving my ass on this."

"Your regular runner should be able to handle the install. Just warn them about the latest _upScript_ release. It's not stable." Kris could have kept going but his wrist com alarm beeped. It was quarter to eleven and he looked over at Firecracker. "Um, don't you open at eleven?"

Firecracker nodded, clearly distracted by the list of components. "Yeah, why?"

"It's ten to," Kris pointed to the clock.

Firecracker spun around to stare at the clock, eyes wide. "Ten to...... No, oh no... I gotta..."

"Do you want me to open for the morning shift?" Kris asked hesitantly as she darted into the bathroom.

"Sure, that'd be great," Firecracker's voice was muffled by the door. There was some jingling and the door opened a fraction and Firecracker shoved some key cards into Kris' hands. It looked like there were security codes written on the back of the cards as Kris shuffled through them. "It's the black card for the front door, red card for the back door."

"Got it," Kris called, checking he was decent. He left a fresh pot of coffee brewing and five of each of the muffins wrapped in a clean towel on the table. Then, taking a deep breath, he made his way down to open the doors with the rest of the muffins. There were already people banging on the door and calling for Firecracker. Kris cursed, desperately juggling the two towels full of muffins and the key-cards, and managed to swipe the key-card and punch in the code.

The door was heavier than he'd expected and he had to shoulder it open. He managed without dropping the muffins and looked up to meet wide eyes. There were at least half a dozen people staring at him and Kris faltered. "Um, hi?"

The awkward silence was broken by a car backfiring repeatedly as it pulled jerkily into an empty space. An older woman with laughter lines creasing the corners of her eyes looked at Kris and said something about Carlos and 'Fyre. There was a giggle and one of the big guys in t-shirts with 'Security' on the back stepped forward, nodding to Kris as he headed inside. Kris stepped aside to let them past, watching as the back-firing car stuttered to a stop.

A woman- Trace from last night, Kris thought, although she looked very different without the makeup - flung the door open and climbed out, swearing loudly. Kris edged back a little; there was something about her that reminded him of Momma.

"Stupid fucking import. Why the hell did I ever listen to the dealer? Piece of crap..." She stopped short when she caught sight of him. She was pretty underneath the frustration and exhaustion and very, very scary. She had Momma's quiet way of just looking at him like she could read his mind. She stared at him and then her eyes flicked down to the keys. "Allie overslept?"

"Firecracker?" Kris checked and Trace nodded. "She had a few phone calls to make. She'll be down in a few minutes."

"You have muffins..." Trace observed, leading him into the back room and sniffing curiously at the bundle of muffins.

"Uh, yeah, I'm kinda used to busy work and I get up earlier than most people so um...."

"So you made muffins?" Trace sounded intrigued.

"Yeah? I was getting fresh coffee anyway so ....I swear it seemed like a good idea at the time," Kris looked down at his towel-muffin bundle ruefully.

"Can I...?" Trace reached out hopefully.

"If you feel like living dangerously," Kris opened the bundle and flashed her a quick smile. "Those are chocolate and walnut and those are strawberry and rum. Don't feel you have to though."

Trace snorted at him and grabbed a chocolate muffin, biting it nearly in half. Having someone tasting his cooking made him think of his momma and the forced smile she used to get every time she tasted his latest disaster at the kitchen. Kris fidgeted with the bundle, wishing he'd had time to get proper ingredients or thought this whole thing through. Trace's drawn-out moan made him blush and she licked the still soft chocolate off her fingers and pretty much devoured the rest of the muffin. "Oh my God! Can I just chain you up to an oven and have you make these all day?"

"Um, sorry," Kris smiled, holding up his empty hands. "Kinda booked up at the moment."

"Uh huh," Trace gave him an arch look that made Kris stammer a little. "I'll bet you are!"

"I'll make some more tomorrow," Kris offered. "If Firecracker doesn't mind me stealing her kitchen again."

"Don't you worry, honey. She won't mind," Trace took one of the strawberry muffins. "I'll make sure of it. So, apart from opening the door and supplying me with a reason to keep living, what you doing down here?"

"Um, pretty much just opening up, actually," Kris admitted. "Though if you need anything done, I'd be happy to help."

"I'm fairly sure we're okay, but if you hang around, I'm fairly sure I can find a job for you." Trace's smile was wicked and Kris looked down at the bundle of muffins.

"Cool." The rest of the staff were collecting around them, peering curiously at him. "Can I leave them here?"

"Sure," Trace shrugged, rolling her eyes at the rest of the staff. "If you don't mind them being reduced to crumbs. Locusts, I swear to God."

"Better than just having them thrown out," Kris said dryly.

The muffins disappeared with gratifying speed and by the time Firecracker came downstairs nearly half an hour later, Kris was chatting with Trace and Martin as they restocked the bar. Kris was reminiscing about Over-Loaded, the cred store bar he and Cale had worked at for the first three years they'd been in San Diego.

"I used to go there," Trace laughed incredulously. "Used to be my favorite bar back before I got a decent fake ID. They had the best Iced Teas."

"Well, that's only because Riggz' wife insisted he fork out for the organic cola," Kris laughed. Riggz had been a drunk and a failed poet who used Over-Loaded to raise money for his 'mission' to bring jazz techno to the masses. Kris had liked him and his wife Spiral who had been a classy lady with a knack for predicting the next big fashion trend that hadn't done much to keep them from bankruptcy.

"That's it. That's what it is!" Trace pointed triumphantly at him. "Goddamn, ten years I've been trying to figure that shit out!"

"It was the California Sunset Cycle brand," Kris offered. "I think they still make it."

"Bosslady," Trace said over her shoulder just as Firecracker came in through the door behind her. "I need to add something to the order, that okay?"

"Sure, you know where the paperwork is," Firecracker said distractedly. She nodded to Kris. "'Fyre just called. Carlos is off for the next couple of days. Can't bear to come in while he has a pair of black eyes."

"Oh," Kris switched the coffee machine on, ducking his head a little. "...sorry?"

Trace snorted. "Don't be sorry, honey-child. Pushy little punk deserved it."

"Still," Kris hesitated. "I'm sorry it's screwing you over."

"Don't worry about it," Firecracker shrugged. "We'll do a ring around and find someone to cover."

"I'll start making the calls," Trace said with a heavy sigh.

"If you don't find anyone, I could help out?" Kris offered. "I'm a little out of practice but..."

Firecracker and Trace looked at him with matching skeptical expressions and Kris bristled a little. He wasn't _just_ a data-runner and bartending wasn't rocket science at the worst of times. He'd spent three years in Over-Loaded, slinging drinks for thirteen hours a day, six days a week. He knew what he was doing.

" _You_ 've worked a bar before?" Firecracker asked incredulously.

"I wasn't born coding," Kris said defensively which was at least half-true. "I used to work in Over-Loaded a couple of years back."

"You worked there?" Trace scoffed. "Kiddo, you're hardly old enough to have drunk there."

"Riggz liked his staff young and stupid," Kris shrugged. "Paying your staff under the table is cheaper."

"Well," Firecracker said doubtfully. "If you think you can handle it, I don't mind giving you a shot."

Pride properly stung, Kris glanced at the neat lines of bottles behind the bar. "Well, if you need me to prove myself...?"

He probably proved his point with the first cocktail. It wasn't the best drink he'd ever made but it had enough of kick to make Trace's eyes water. Firecracker insisted he make one for her and it just escalated, because of course it would. Kris wound up behind the bar for two hours with most of the staff and some of the early customers crowded around and calling out cocktails. Muscle memory turned out to be a wonderful thing; Spiral had taught him to mix cocktails with more loving attention to detail than any of his sensei. _Idolize_ 's bar was a lot bigger than he was used to but Kris picked it up fast enough. By the time everyone had their cocktails, he was sweating under the smothering hoody.

Trace was sprawled in her stool, smiling as Kris mopped his forehead with a sleeve. She leaned over into Firecracker's personal space and batted her eyes hopefully. "Can we keep him? I promise we'll feed him!"

Kris eyed the collection of spirits on the bar in front of him and started to spin the bottles idly, pouring multicolored blends of liquor, spinning the glass to create a spiral of vivid colors. He hasn't even thought about some of the crazy late night cocktails they used to make, when they were all giddy and stupid with exhaustion and the fumes of spilled beer and home-brewed spirits. This one was always his favorite and he added the last touches before sliding it across the bar to Firecracker. He flashed Trace a faux-apologetic smile. "....I think Silverfyre called dibs, sorry."

"Damnit," Trace was smiling and Kris started putting away the bottles. "Well honey, if you ever get tired of him, just let me know. I'll find a place for ya!"

Firecracker sipped tentatively at her cocktail and her eyes widened. "Oh wow, what's that?"

Kris laughed, shaking his head. "Don't think we ever bothered naming it properly. Kickstand used to call it a Firework."

"Well, it certainly is that," Firecracker sipped at her drink again and closed her eyes for a second. "Wow. You're hired!"

"I thought Silverfyre had already hired me," Kris teased. "When do you need me?"

"We're should be fine until about four thirty," Firecracker said after a second's thought. "I'd say grab some sleep before then if you can. It's a long shift if you're not used to it."

Kris looked at the clock and shook his head. Cale would be showing up any minute and Kris wasn't letting him poke his nose past the door until he'd gotten Cale's signed promise not to bring up embarrassing stories. "I'm meeting Kickstand for lunch actually so if you lovely ladies will excuse me?"

"Sure thing, honey," Trace pushed away from the bar and waved. "See you tonight."

Kris' timing was awesome. Cale pulled up just as Kris came hurrying out the back door, hooking his bag over his shoulder. He looked at Kris, still flushed and sweaty from the bar and arched an eloquent eyebrow. Kris punched his arm lightly as he hopped nimbly onto the back of the bike.

"Ow, jeez," Cale rubbed his arm for a second before clicking his plugs back into place and gunning the engine. "I didn't say anything."

"You were going to," Kris settled in behind him and let Cale whisk them both away. Cale laughed and the city blurred past. Cale's side still shaking with laughter. Cale threaded through traffic, taking one of the longer routes back to the shop. Kris tucked his head down against the warmth of Cale's shoulder. He had missed just being able to hang out with his best friend.

Gears’n’Fears was busy; Kris counted twelve bikes on the asphalt outside as Cale pulled around to the back. The office/bedroom where Cale lived was hot, even with the windows open and the air-con roaring in the background. Kris settled into the sagging armchair, tucking his feet under him and rubbing absently at his wrist.

Cale had food, too much food really, covering the desk and Kris had two muffins saved for him. It was like being back in Conway for a while, talking and eating and Cale was gently teasing him about his cooking and both of them reminiscing about the slap-dash meals when they first came to San Diego. Kris threw toast at Cale when he cracked a joke about Kris' 'crush'. Cale ducked but he was still smiling smugly. Kris had to throw in the plastic cutlery a minute later, stomach gurgling uncomfortably. Kris groaned; he'd eaten more in the last twenty four hours than he was used to eating in a week. He was stuffed, drowsy and content.

"If you want to take a few minutes," Cale said distractedly as a storm of cursing rose from outside. "It sounds like Spanner's done something expensive."

"Yeah, sure," Kris waved him off, settling more comfortably into the soft armchair and hearing it squeak. "I'll be here."

He had a list of things he needed; a good street-doc, some halfway honest fixer to find him an up-to-date set of plugs and parts for a new deck that wouldn't fritz if he bumped it off a wall or Silverfyre's bike. His eyes wouldn't stay open and he blinked slow and lazy. Cale would be back any minute, Kris could just close his eyes for a minute. Just for a minute.

Cale shook him awake two hours later. "Man, you've got to shut that off."

'That' was Kris' wrist comp warning him that he had twenty five minutes before the start of his first shift at _Idolize_. Draghos must have programmed the alarm because Kris was sure he hadn't. Kris was really going to have to do something about his security programs. This micro-managing over-protectiveness was not part of their original algorithm and Kris didn't have time to do a thorough debugging right now.

"I need to get back to the club," Kris rubbed at his eyes and knocked the mug perched on the side of the armchair into his lap. The mug slipped through his fingers when he grabbed for it and bounced to the carpet. The coffee went everywhere and Kris wound up with coffee over his lap, thankfully cold but already soaked into his jeans. "Shit."

"Klutz," Cale tossed him a towel with oil-stains all over and Kris smeared black grease over his jeans before his fuzzy brain kicked into gear. "Shit, that's my bad. You got a spare?"

"When have you ever known me to pack a spare pair of jeans for lunch?" Kris snapped and Cale shrugged. "I gotta get back. I don't have time to stop at a shop! Fuck. Now what do I do now?"

Cale looked him up and down. "Well, you haven't been eating and it's not like you've grown in the last seven years or anything..."

"Har, fucking har," Kris growled and Cale help up his hands.

"Just saying, there's a couple of old pairs of jeans from back before you started rocking the hermit lifestyle in the locker over by the fuel caps," Cale looked him over. "Might be a little tight but it's gotta be better than looking like you pissed yourself on your first night."

"I may hate you," Kris said over his shoulder as he dived for the locker. "Or I may love you."

"Conflicting message much?" Cale laughed and Kris balled up his hoody and threw it at his smirking jerk of a best friend.

The jeans were tight but they were clean, mostly new and didn't rip when Kris stretched tentatively. Cale gave him a dispassionate once over and shrugged. "You're not going to scare the neighbors. I guess you'll do."

"You're a superstar," Kris rolled his eyes and bundled up his wet jeans. "I need a ride."

"Not a problem," Cale smiled big and too bright. Kris was starting to get a really bad feeling about that. "I've been meaning to meet this merc of yours. Drew's convinced he's a drunk and you think he hung the sun. I think it's time I made my own mind up."

"Hate you," Kris said flatly. "Definitely hate you."

"You love me," Cale said placidly. "Ass in gear, kiddo. Clock's ticking."

Kris muttered darkly the whole way but Cale got him back to _Idolize_ with five minutes to spare in open contempt of all the traffic laws. Kris sent him back around the front, ducking in to find Trace waiting with an apron and some hair gel. Kris managed to avoid having anything more serious than some eyeliner applied and followed her out to the bar.

The sun was still up but _Idolize_ was already hopping. All the windows were blacked out and it took a few seconds for Kris' eyes to adjust to the dimmer electric lights that painted rainbows across the mirrored ceilings. There was a lively crowd of people and brilliantly colored drinks flowed from the bar. It was far more luxurious than Over-Loaded had ever hoped to be but it was hot and furious.

Kris tucked in behind Trace, relearning the flow and the speed of it. The bottles were cool and slippery slick from the fridges and he kept nearly dropping them. He had to concentrate on that which meant no worry left for the customers. He didn't bother trying to censor himself; clubs like _Idolize_ didn't pander to their customers and being the 'soft touch' bartender would just make him a target for every drunk and cheapskate that sleazed their way past the bouncer.

He'd hated dealing with innuendo back in Over-Loaded but five years hanging around the Zombies had given him a thicker skin and with Trace hovering protectively just to his right and the massive security guards cruising casually through the crowd, Kris relaxed into a free-flowing banter. The nervous tension drained out of him a little more with every minute that passed without disaster and having Cale hanging out on a stool, nursing a beer and cracking jokes made it even easier.

He was assembling a Mai Tai Bombshell when Trace nudged him in the curve of his back where sweat made his t-shirt cling. Kris glanced back and she nodded towards the door. "'Fyre's just rolled in. He could probably do with a drink."

"Okay?" Kris slid the Bombshell carefully across the bar to the customer and dropped the money into the till. Trace was still watching him and he scrubbed his hands on his jeans.

"He likes a Cosmopolitan," Trace told him before neatly intercepting his next customer. Kris could see Silverfyre now or at least the aggressive crest of hair moving towards the bar and Kris' hands shook just a little as he reached for the chunky bottle of vodka and the shaker. The cocktail came together beautifully and Kris hooked a lime slice on the glass, setting in on the bar just as Silverfyre dropped into the stool opposite.

Silverfyre didn't seem to recognize Kris at first glance, eyes going wide only after Kris winked at him. Kris flashed the merc a quick smile and Silverfyre lifted his glass in a half-mocking salute. Kris doesn't get a chance to chat; Arnet had disappeared for a smoke break and there were a mob of slumming university students crowded around the bar, shouting drinks orders and waving fistfuls of cash. Trace snapped her fingers at him, saying something succinct and vicious under her breath and Kris grabbed glasses and spirits, juggling them easily as he fielded questions and demands.

By the time he was free to look around, Silverfyre had disappeared into the back. Trace mimed a phone and Kris nodded. Silverfyre was performing tonight, he remembered and they had no jobs planned for the immediate future. He was probably arranging a date or rather, a hook-up for the night. Kris turned back to the customers and his smile was only a little forced.

Three new bartenders came out of the back room, tying on aprons and Trace leaned in with her hand pressed to his back to shout over the music. "You can head out now. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem," Kris said. Silverfyre had come back out and his expression...Kris hesitated for a second, then snagged the shaker again, mixing another Cosmo. Before he could lose his nerve, Kris caught Silverfyre's sleeve and pulled him back into the staff room. "What's wrong?"

He was half-expecting Silverfyre to brush him off but the merc sighed and drained half the cocktail in one long pull. "I gotta assemble a team. I gotta run tonight."

"What?" Kris glanced down at his wrist comp but none of the alerts he'd tagged for _Trojan_ or _Nebula_ had been tripped. Drew hadn't said anything about-his phone buzzed, the text scrolling across the surface-screen of his wrist comp. "Why?"

"Drey just called. Gee got grabbed by someone," Silverfyre raked his fingers through the spike of hair and finished the cocktail, tossing the glass into the sink. "He thinks it's _Fortress_ , but he's not sure. Shit!"

Kris tapped his fingers against his arms, a bad feeling growing under his skin. The text was from his voice-mail screening service but the number was Momma's. "Gimme a second," he ducked out back, fumbling for his phone and thumbing in the number. Momma's voice was a familiar burr and the news, as he was half-expecting, wasn't good.

 _Fortress_ were running a sweep on behalf of City Hall and they'd hit the Zombies in the no man's land between the Gauntlet and the fortified suburbs. It was nothing usually, just _Fortress_ flexing their corporate muscles to prove they deserved the tax-break that had virtually defunded the PD. Kris had seen Zombie packs decimated by these kind of raids but this was different.

It was different this time. The pack that had been hit had been Bonebreaker's and he and BrainEater were among the ten Zombies who hadn't been found. Kris hadn't been _friends_ with either of them but they'd never given him trouble. He still owed them one, even but it wasn't that thought that spiked red hot rage in the back of his mind. He went back to where Silverfyre was pacing up and down in the staff room. "Where was he grabbed?"

"He was on his way back from South City...he takes the shortcut through Ninth. That would probably have been close enough to the Gauntlet, I guess." Silverfyre stopped and was watching Kris.

"Fuck. Well, you're not going to get a team tonight," Kris said honestly. _Fortress_ ' current sweep was wildly ambitious; some new VP eager to prove he deserved his new benefits package and flashing his dick around. It wouldn't last but smart mercs would keep their head down and wait for the inevitable backlash from the gangs. Even if Silverfyre could find mercs stupid enough to run against _Fortress_ , they wouldn't be coming out that night. South meant Gibson had to have been coming from the ganglands though, which meant there was another option. "Momma says _Fortress_ has closed the whole east gangland."

"Fucking corporate bastards!" Silverfyre raged. Kris was a little startled, he hadn't thought Silverfyre and Gibson were particular friends. "I can't leave him in there. He's gonna do something stupid. And Drey's not going to be too far behind him."

Kris looked at him, a plan starting to take shape in the back of his mind. He looked at the notes he'd scrawled on his wrist-comp. "Momma says _Fortress_ picked up a few of the bruisers...how unfriendly is Gee?"

Silverfyre's scornful snort wasn't encouraging. He held up his finger and thumb less than an eighth of an inch apart. "He's about this far from losing it. He's been borderline psycho for years. Drey keeps him grounded; he's the only thing that does some days. If _Fortress_ have shot him up with anything, he's going to tip over the edge."

"They don't bother with drugs most of the time," bullets after all were a whole hell of a lot cheaper. Kris considered for a moment. "But if he's cyberlining....they won't take him back to HQ."

His mind was racing now, weighing the probabilities and what he knew of _Fortress_. Five years with the Zombies had taught him a lot about how _Fortress_ worked and how they planned campaigns like this. With what Momma had just told him, it might just be enough for a plan. Silverfyre stayed quiet, watching him. Kris didn't flinch but it was an act of will not to fidget. This was crazy stupid but it was _possible_. Silverfyre hummed thoughtfully. "So where is he then?"

"Eighty-fourth and ninth," Kris was confident, adrenaline starting to spike. Even _Fortress_ wouldn't risk moving a whole office full of cybered gangers hovering on the verge of full-blown psychosis until the area was pacified. The satellite offices didn't meet city standards for body disposal and with a full gang-war brewing, it would be easier to store prisoners alive in the cyber-proof cells than dead in the med-facilities. "They have an ICEbox in the satellite office there. How long ago was Gee grabbed?"

Silverfyre was watching Kris' hands playing with his phone, spinning it back and forth. He flicked a glance at the clock. "About an hour ago."

"Yeah," Kris didn't even look at his phone this time. Textbook _Fortress_ tactical 'thinking'. "They'll keep the suppression forces out for the rest of night. You're not going to get a team stupid enough to risk it."

"You're right," Silverfyre conceded. "But I can't leave him there. I don't like the guy but..."

Kris hesitated. He could still walk away from this but Silverfyre's eyes were hard and cold. He wasn't going to let this go and it would be suicide for Kris to attempt a run against _Fortress_ on his own. Could he trust the merc? The last job hadn't been a disaster but this was going to be very different. Silverfyre thought Kris was good but if they pulled this off, he'd _know_... "Why do you need a team?"

"Okay," Silverfyre's sudden smile left him feeling a little dazed and the merc was suddenly all practicality. "Let's break this down. What do we need to break into a _Fortress_ satellite office?"

"Leave that to me. How are you at smoke-screens?" Kris asked. _We_? One run under their belt wasn't enough for them to count as a 'we'. He still wasn't sure how much he could trust Silverfyre with and the prep would go faster if he could work alone.

"Diversions or actual smoke?" Silverfyre deadpanned.

"Whichever works for you," Kris shrugged with a casual confidence that he didn't feel. "You really want to tell Firecracker you're about to take another suicidally dangerous job without the proper prep or time?"

"When you put it like that..." Silverfyre grinned, wide and unrepentant. "Not really."

Kris glanced at clock then at the whiteboard schedule with Silverfyre's name in big orange letters. "You need to go do your set first. Do you have your gear for a job here or do you need to go get it?"

"Yeah, I can't drop another set," Silverfyre followed his gaze and stood up, casual and normal like he wasn't just leaving the whole tactical side of the run in Kris' lap. "Firecracker would kill me. I got my kit here, or all of it I'll need anyway."

"You go do your set," Kris said confidently. "Leave the rest of it to me."

"What time are you finished tonight?" Silverfyre asked, looking back at the clock.

Kris smirked a little. "Five minutes ago."

Silverfyre nodded. "I'll be done in 90, maybe a little more?"

"Works fine for me," Kris said honestly. "I need to grab some stuff from upstairs and come up with an excuse for Kickstand and Firecracker."

"Good luck with that one." Silverfyre grinned at him and Kris looked away, tugging on the too-hot t-shirt.

"I think I can manage but you need to get your butt in gear. I'll see you back here in 90?"

"You got it." Silverfyre sketched out a salute and vanished into the back-stage area.

Kris watched him go then wrenched his attention back to the matter at hand. There was a data-port in the office and Kris pulled out his deck. It only took a few seconds, stretched out to minutes in the jacked-in relative time to set the suite to work. They uploaded their main code into the deck, leaving a few restore points tucked away on the Net proper. He left his deck battery to charge while he ran back upstairs to grab his armor.

Firecracker was easier to find than Kris expected. She was sitting in the bar stool next to Cale's and Kris groaned internally. This wasn't going to end well. Firecracker was edging a little into Cale's space and Cale was sitting loose and lazy but Kris had watched the guy tripping over his words with girls since kindergarten and he knew that smile. Still, if the pair of them only had eyes for each other tonight, it might give Kris and Silverfyre the opening they were going to need.

Firecracker was nursing half a Gearhead while Cale gestured with his empty beer bottle. They were both laughing as Kris worked his way through the crush of customers. "-and now, he's filling in for a shift behind the bar."

Cale lifted his beer in salute, smiling warmly and sounding genuinely impressed when he answered. "Good start. If you're planning to get much more work out of him, he'll need his stuff."

"What stuff?" Kris asked as he wedged himself in between Cale and the wall.

"Well, your clothes for a start," Cale directed a pointed glance at the too-small jeans Kris was wearing and Kris thumped him on the shoulder.

Firecracker leaned back in her stool and ran a predatory gaze down along Kris' legs. Kris had to fight not to hide behind Cale. "Those jeans are good."

"Those jeans are old," Kris muttered, feeling awkward and intrusive when Cale grinned at her but he had an idea now, an excuse for why he and Silverfyre would head out in full armor. "I need to get my actual clothes back."

"I'm sure we can arrange that," Firecracker sipped her cocktail. "Or you could just buy a new wardrobe with the tips you're earning tonight."

Kris hadn't even looked at the tip jar. He got a place to stay tonight and that was the deal. He wasn't angling for tips or a handout. Maybe it was Firecracker's idea of a joke? "Actually, I was going to drop back - my clothes aren't worth stealing so they should still be there. I was going to ask if you'd let me steal Silverfyre for a bit after his set?"

Firecracker set her drink aside and leaned closer, looking at him speculatively. "Why?"

"Because I don't think either of you would let me go alone," Kris said truthfully. After last night, he wasn't sure Silverfyre would be willing to let him near the motel with a TAC-team but it sounded plausible. "And because he and I need to get to know each other better if this is going to work."

Firecracker's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Get to know each other better, eh?"

Kris pretended not to hear the innuendo. "Handling a few punks will be a bonding experience."

"I'm not sure the cops have lifted the cordon yet, but if you wanna..." Firecracker shrugged and turned back to her drink. "He'll be done in by half-eleven."

"Cool," Kris said. "Will it be a problem if I'm back late?"

"Nope," Firecracker nodded to one of the bartenders who brought fresh drinks over. "Fyre's got keys."

"Cool," Kris repeated and clapped Cale on the back, winking at them both. "I'll get out of your way."

Cale swatted at him but Kris ducked easily under the half-hearted swing. "Punk. Take care of yourself."

"Don't get dead!" Firecracker hollered after him.

"I'll do my best!" Kris promised, ducking back through the crowd as Silverfyre took the stage for the second half of his act.

Finding Silverfyre's armor and weapons was pretty easy. Kris cracked the combination lock on the locker with the silver flame decals. He stacked the armor and the various weapons on the chair beside him and jacked back in. The suite were already at work, feeding Kris the latest corporate-standard encryption protocols and the schematics of the new generation locks. Kris settled in and started memorizing.

Fifty minutes later, Silverfyre came crashing through the door loud enough to alert Kris. He disconnected his plugs with another warning prickle of pins and needles under the false skin that hid his ports. Silverfyre looked at the neat stack of weapons and armor, one dark eyebrow rising as he looked at his apparently untouched locker.

He glanced at Kris, shrugged and started to strip. Kris, caught off-guard, didn't look away fast enough. Silverfyre's stage clothes seemed to be all leather and lace and impractical buckles. Kris only realized he was staring when Silverfyre unhooked the last of his straps and stepped out of his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear and Kris' brain blew a fuse. He snapped his gaze to the left, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment and just a little misplaced lust. Silverfyre didn't even notice, wiping away the sweat and makeup with an Insta-Showah before starting to don his armor.

"I told Firecracker I needed to pick up my things from the double-S," Kris said, fighting to get his mind back on track. "She insisted I bring you."

"That works," Silverfyre strapped a harness with several extra clips of ammo inside the first layer of his armor. Kris carefully looked away from his bared chest. "Gives us time."

"We've got thirty minutes, don't feel the need to sprain anything," Kris said dryly.

Silverfyre snorted as he checked the slide and slotted home the clips in his pistols. "Glad to know you care."

"About your exhibitionist streak?" Kris struggled to keep the question light. Let Silverfyre think he was only teasing. "Not even slightly."

Silverfyre laughed and continued tucking away weaponry. He had a lot of weapons and it was like watching magician making coins disappear. Kris watched, fascinated, as Silverfyre strapped knives, throwing stars and extra clips into carefully tailored armor panels. When he was satisfied with that, he stowed a smaller plain nine mil into his ankle holster and straightened up. "All done."

Kris checked his wrist-comp. "A little ahead of schedule but hey, we can work with that."

"We taking the bike?" Silverfyre's tone was all business but Kris didn't dare look over at him.

"Unless you're willing to risk the bus," Kris unhooked his deck and slid it into the bag. "Fairly sure they're not running anyway."

"They aren't," Silverfyre led him back towards the staff entrance, already on alert. "Okay, what's the plan?"

"I need you to run interference," Kris didn't have time for the full explanation. It was counting down to midnight and if Momma's information was right, they were never going to get a better chance than this. "There'll be ten security guards on duty in the office by the time we get there. I need you to keep them busy long enough to let me crack the network."

"What do you need?" Silverfyre asked simply.

Kris hitched up a shoulder. "I need you to do what I tell you to and trust that I know what I'm doing."

"You trusted me," Silverfyre held out the spare helmet, shrugging. "I can do the same."

"Cool," Kris strapped on the helmet and mounted behind Silverfyre. The bike roared to life and Kris felt the tension humming through his own muscles. There were squat black AVs cluttering the sky and he leaned around Silverfyre, watching the shadowy buildings of the Gauntlet and mentally working out junctions and distances. They were about four blocks away from the office when he tapped Silverfyre's shoulder.

Silverfyre pulled to a stop, tucking the bike in behind one of the concrete Public Information kiosks and killing the engine. Kris craned his head to see the clock. The dull green LCDs of the standardized clock flickered dimly. 23:59:50

They were right on time. Kris counted slowly to ten. On 'nine', the nearest _Fortress_ AV, a FRSPV-983 that was starting to circle lazily towards them, caught a RPG in the belly. It exploded in a plume of red and orange and more RPGs were fired into the sky. In the distance, gunfire and screaming erupted and as the entire South-East side of the Gauntlet lit up under heavy weapons fire.

"We need to leave the bike here." Kris said, smiling a little. _Fortress_ had dug in for the night on Ninth and Grover, the old boundary between the RaZZorZ and Nosferatu. It was textbook _Fortress_ strategy and it would have worked beautifully. Three weeks ago.

What _Fortress_ hadn't taken into account was the fact that this close to the Gauntlet, boundaries were flexible things. Right about now, Kris thought, _Fortress_ would be discovering that their nice new cyber-proof barricades were on the wrong side of the Sanguine's bloodthirsty enforcers. Sanguine was a gang that even the Zombies didn't fuck with. Cyber psychotics with a taste for the truly fucked up hallucinogenics and a preference for in-built weaponry modeled on the Spanish Inquisition's tools were dangerous enough. Add in a persecution complex and a steady diet of conspiracy theories and _Fortress_ would be lucky to escape with more than thirty percent of their troops.

Silverfyre locked the bike, keeping one eye on the firefight in the distance and one hand hovering over his gun. Kris brought up the local map on his wrist comp and took one last deep breath. "Right, follow me."

The local office was an ugly brick of a building, dirty gray plas-crete with narrow slots for windows. There were three doors, the public entrance at the front and the operational entrances tucked away at the back. All three had full security systems but Kris settled to his haunches, pulling out his deck and tapping out a string of commands.

"I need you to stay very still for a second," he said over his shoulder, fingers flying across the keys. Chronos had collected Silverfyre's biometrics from _Idolize_ and the Ninja program hummed to life, updating and compiling into a new configuration. Kris watched the status lights, not quite holding his breath until the display flashed green; Virago confirming that the Ninja program had been successfully uploaded into the local network and was replicating throughout the _Fortress_ ethernet.

He added the status feed of the program to the display inside his goggles and shut his deck back down. Silverfyre was motionless behind him and Kris flashed him a quick smile. "Follow me."

He pulled his goggles back into place to check the schematics he'd uploaded. The locks weren't really a challenge or at least, Kris played it like they weren't. There was a giddy cocktail fizzing through his blood made up of daring and 'look at me'. He didn't actually look back at Silverfyre because that would have been admitting something. He cracked the lock easily, holding the doors open just enough to let Silverfyre slip through before closing them again.

"We're off the cameras," Kris said very softly. "And there are no patrols due in this area for the next one hundred and thirteen seconds. The main access points are in the center block, that's where I'm going. Keep the sub-voc open and I'll keep you in the loop on the patrols. Once I'm into the network, you could try to get them into the rooms there," he pointed to the small interrogations suites on either side of the corridor. "And I'll lock them in. The cells are in the middle of the building and I'm going to lock out as much of the office as I can. If it all works, we'll have a highway out before I start unlocking the cells."

Silverfyre nodded and Kris checked the live feeds once more. The office was a standard _Fortress_ 'community-based' office and half the locks hadn't been updated. It took Kris fifty six seconds to break into the IT node below the operation office. It was a small, rancid pit of a room with an overflowing trash-can filled with fast food cartons and half a case of cheap beer under the control deck. Kris powered up his deck and pulled out the override-cable, unscrewing the access panel and plugging it directly in the central network connection.

He double checked Silverfyre's position as his deck finished booting and he clicked the plugs into place. There was a heart-stopping second of lag when all Kris could hear was his own racing heartbeat. Then _Fortress_ ' local network lit up slowly around him.

Dropping into a hostile system was a very different experience to jacking into the Net. Kris' icon was stripped down to the bare lines of code which displayed as gold and blue circuitry in a loosely human shape. He took a quick look around and rolled his eyes. The GUI was stereotypical military; Roman, if he wasn't mistaken. Lines of identical soldiers wearing re-colored Roman armor in khaki and gray filled the data-fort.

Kris whistled and Virago solidified behind him. Nox was already perched on the blank gray ceiling, cataloging the multiple layers of cyber-security and feeding Kris the statistics. Encrypted control algorithms, networked reactions and escalating attack programming. Kris looked at the layers of heavy-duty security programs and smiled.

The Net's innate graphic interface allowed for infinite adaptations but most of the corp data-runners just copied something from a movie or history special, pasting skins over simplistic code and called it good. Even gravity was an illusion when you were jacked in but it was something a lot of data-runners forgot. It only took a nanosecond to re-orient his own gravity so he was standing beside Nox.

Virago followed him up and the three of them walked calmly over the layered and complicated defenses around the system. None of the complex, aggressive security programs reacted. Kris still held his breath until they dropped lightly to their feet at the 'courtyard' of the inner System.

The database was a pyramid made of scrolls: stretching up to the sky. The connection to the main _Fortress_ network was a constantly moving bucket chain that was busily churning information back to _Fortress_ HQ. There was a general's throne room which should be the control hub for the office.

"Strip the records," Kris told Nox. "Virago, as in the simulation. Lock down the offices as Silverfyre passes, try to get the security teams in there."

"Got it," the security programs split up.

Kris turned his attention to the network connection, spinning up the code fragments he'd stored on the deck's RAM and slotting them together. Virago was busily resetting security codes on a two hour loop while Nox destroyed every file he found that mentioned the Zombies, Silverfyre or Kris. Kris expanded Nox's parameters to include a couple of other gangs and the first five fixers/mercs he could think of. No point in making it obvious who'd been behind this after all.

The program he was creating snapped together in just a millisecond. It wasn't the most intelligent worm he'd ever created but once he was done, he had a virus that was all fangs and ravenous appetite. Kris checked over his shoulder, Nox was already on his way back and Virago's status light was going green.

He dropped the worm into the next packet container, uploading it into _Fortress_ ' network and waved his programs over. "Time to go."

They raced back across the ceiling to the access point, diving through as the Roman firewalls belatedly realized something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Virago fed the direct building controls into his deck and Kris plunged back through to the meat world. It felt like falling into his own body and Kris blinked away the lingering instant of dislocation.

His fingers flew across the keys, the building's own security systems feeding information to the map already projected across the inside lens of his goggles. He locked a security teams in the canteen, enabling the electronic muffler and locking out their panic buttons before they even realized something was wrong. There were no alerts so Silverfyre hadn't been made yet.

He flipped a timer into place, counting down the seconds and thumbed the sub-voc, a single click to warn Silverfyre he was there. "Two down-I've locked out the canteen on the ground floor."

A quick check on the Ninja status showed him Silverfyre was working his way across the first floor balconies. "There's a team underneath you. I can't kill their comms until they move out without attracting attention we don't need."

"Got it," Silverfyre breathed and Kris turned his attention back to the map, zooming in on the section Silverfyre was in.

"There's a door, three feet to your left," he said, overriding the lock. "It's got an emergency route down the office below and to the left. They'll pass it in about ten seconds."

"They’re mine," Silverfyre's whisper was a predatory purr and Kris tabbed back to the other teams. One was right inside the cell-block, less than three feet from the cells themselves. Kris double-checked the intake list, smiling viciously as he locked out the comms and engaged the heavy-duty locks on the block doors. The timer was still running down in the corner of the deck's display as he rotated the maps and double-checked his escape routes.

Silverfyre was already dealing with the team and Kris brought up Nox's system tracker to check progress on the destruction of the database. He really hadn't expected this to be so easy. _Fortress_ hadn't done any serious upgrade of their local systems even before going into a gang war. Kris double-checked for latent malware but there was nothing Draghos hadn't already deleted or quarantined.

"Next team is three corridors right, one over," Kris updated Silverfyre as he locked whatever was left of the unfortunate security team in the office the merc had just left. "One more after this and it's time to go."

"I’m thinking throwing stars this time... Been a while."

"Right, I'm taking down the internal comms," Kris warned. "Let them chase you through those doors, then go left and through the door without a window. I'll handle the rest."

"You got it," Silverfyre answered, moving quickly. Kris watched the alert trigger, redirecting it through the disintegrating office network until it was lost in the static. The security team charged after Silverfyre, two crucial seconds behind him as he dived through the door.

The network monitor was flashing, belatedly wising up the fact that the network was collapsing. Kris swore. "We're running out of time. Your friend Gee-"

"I wouldn’t call him a friend," Silverfyre huffed, still a little breathless.

"-how violent is he likely to be feeling?"

"You're kidding, right?" Silverfyre laughed harshly. "He's going to be chewing the fucking walls."

"Excellent," Kris tapped in a long string of commands. "Move towards the exit behind you and be ready to run."

"What about you?" Silverfyre demanded but he was moving.

Kris punched in the last four commands and hit the power button on his deck. "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing."

"What _are_ you do-" Silverfyre started but the clunk of heavy-duty locks starting to disengage cut him off. Kris was already stuffing his deck in his bag and planning his own exit route. The cell doors would be starting their cycle and somewhere in the corridors downstairs, the last two security teams would be hitting inert panic buttons and screaming into dead radios.

Kris had been very careful. When Momma had told him Bonecrusher and some of the boys had been picked up earlier, she'd warned they would be starting to go into withdrawal from Zombi#, the gang's preferred cocktail of anti-psychotics. Anyone not wearing colors would be meat, nothing more. _Fortress_ security carried cyber-grade Desert Eagles with nothing more fancy than armor-piercing bullets when they were working in an office like this.

They'd be lucky to get more than one shot off. Kris had unlocked all the doors leading to the freight doors at the back which would open right into the ganglands. Momma had promised to have some of the boys watching and Bonecrusher and the rest would be safe as soon as they cleared the building.

The other cells would also be opening, the mercs' only escape along a corridor that would take them out the public entrance on Silverfyre's heels. The _Fortress_ team currently locked into the no-man's land of that escape route wouldn't be a problem. If Gee and the other rounded up mercs couldn't handle them, Silverfyre would.

Kris skirted the ops room carefully as the timer ticked down the last few seconds. Kris counted down from the five second mark. _Five...four...three...two...one_

The fire alarm wailed to life, sirens whooping as red lights flashed and the outer doors unlocked and swung open. Kris grinned; thank god and City Hall for the state-mandated fire codes, always a boon to a runner in need of a fast override. The obvious flaw in this plan didn't occur to Kris until he heard the shouts from inside the ops center.

 _Shit,_ Kris dived for the emergency door but the angry roar from behind him meant he'd been made. _Shitshitshit_.

Kris was used to being a midget in the world of cyber-enhanced but it had its advantages. No-one ever expected a data-runner to be able to actually run. Kris raced down the stairs, heavy boots thundering behind him. He wasn't stupid enough to actually fight them; _Fortress_ upgraded all their staff with the sort of weapons that were only technically legal because the government didn't know they existed yet.

Still, Kris didn't have to fight here; he just had to get out with his skin intact. The clanging alarm was rattling his brain inside his skull and Kris struggled to keep his attention on the constantly-refreshing maps. The ops block was a labyrinth and if he took a wrong turn, all the running in the world wasn't going to save him.

He had his multi-blade tucked into one of the ridiculously small pockets Andre had sewn into the sleeve of his jacket. The main blade wasn't sharp but it was tough enough to cut through armor. He just needed a corner and a little help from the guard's own momentum. The map flashed up a big red arrow pointing right and Kris skidded around the corner. He fumbled for the blade as he bounced off the wall. He snapped it open just as the first of the ops team came around the corner.

Kris didn't go for the chest or the throat. The guy was two feet taller than him and built like a particularly ugly tank. Instead, he dropped to one knee, lashing out with the blade at the side of the guy's knee. The blade bit through the armor and the tendons in a spray of blood and the guy screamed.

The guy right behind him tripped over him. He had a knife out and twisted viper-fast. The blade punched through the outer layer of Kris' armor, the impact throbbing with the promise of a hell of a bruise. Kris' arm ached but moved and he kicked the guy in the head. There was a bang - _gunshot_ \- and an angry shout.

Kris bolted for the door, leaving the guy to trip up his buddies or slow them down. He hit the last emergency door at a flat run, sprinting for the open exit. He heard the footsteps one second before the punch was thrown and dived into a roll. The guy's fist actually ruffled his hair but he'd over-extended and Kris came up in a perfect position to grab his wrist. One hyper-extended elbow and spiral fracture of the ulna and radius and the guy screamed.

There were still two guys behind him and Kris looked around for some cover. The street was too broad and the only cover was a half trashed dumpster dragged out of a narrow alley. Kris ran for it but in the open, he wasn't a match for cyber-implants. He ducked behind the dumpster and struggled to catch his breath. The welcome roar of Silverfyre's bike narrowed Kris' range of options down to one but the two guys left standing were too close to him.

There was part of a fire-escape still clinging to the building over his head, the ladder rusted halfway down. Kris took it in and the twisted, blocky side of the dumpster. He almost waited for Silverfyre but the imp of mischief that said 'why not' when Silverfyre and Momma told him about _Fortress_ ' greedy sweeps bubbled up again. Kris was moving before he could think better of it.

He used the half-collapsed sides of the dumpster to boost himself up and up. His hands caught the last rung of the fire escape. The rusted metal shrieked but he only needed it to stay stable long enough to curl his body up and over the first guy. He hung in the air, the world slowing and spinning under him. Kris had the clear thought, disconnected from everything that's happening in a rush, in Nox's dry tone. _Nobody ever expects you be overhead._

Then he closed his eyes and let the muscle memory take over. Street mercs armored the kidneys and the joints but even they didn't really think of pressure points. Kris hit the first guy four times. Once at the back of each arm where the taper of bone became the elbow and pushed the micro-wires dangerously close to the surface. Once just above the pelvis, where the vehicle jack with its asymmetric angles and heavier wires sat against the spinal cord. And once, once at the base of skull. The heel of his hand slammed into the connectors that linked the neural ware threaded through the guy's cerebrum to the dozen or so implants.

The guy dropped like a sack of spare parts. Four strikes, five seconds.

The second guard was already hurting; his left arm curled protectively around the distended wires of his plug. Kris didn’t think, one hand lashing out to grab the wires. His other flicked the multi-tool, snapping the blade out. He _pulled_ , the guy's arm straightening instinctively and slammed the blade straight into the exposed port. He wasn't very strong but sheer momentum forced it through the metal casing. This time, the guy didn't scream, mouth opening in voiceless 'O' of fleshy red and pain.

Kris jerked the knife free and ran for the bike already slowing behind. He scrambled on, bloody knife held away from him and Silverfyre and the bike roared to life, leaving what was left of _Fortress_ ' finest bleeding out behind them. Silverfyre wove a complicated path through the alleys until he hit clear roads about a mile out and settled into cruising.

Adrenaline still humming through his veins and the incredulous wonder that they'd _done_ it left Kris feeling twenty feet tall and invincible. There was just one lingering doubt. Kris leaned in to speak into Silverfyre's ear over the rush of the wind. "Did Gee get out?"

"Yeah," Silverfyre dropped a hand to pat Kris' hand. "Saw him heading south."

"Will he be okay?" Kris had probably killed twenty people and while Gibson hadn't been his primary objective, the job had been about him.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Silverfyre snorted, speeding effortlessly past some rich kid's racing car. "If I know him, he's heading straight back to Drey. Drey'll get him back on the social side of psycho. What about the Zombies? Saw some of the heading back to the territories, but I didn't stop to count heads."

"Probably for the best," Kris admitted. He could see the fires starting, tiny orange stars against the towering city-scape. "They're fine. _Fortress_ went and set up their cordon on Sanguine turf. Momma and the rest of them should be rolling in while there's blood in the water."

They drove in silence for a few seconds before a thought crossed Kris' mind and came tumbling out of his mouth. "The armor actually works."

"Good to know," Kris heard the smirk in the shape of Silverfyre's words. "You had doubts?"

"I trusted Andre," Kris said hurriedly, feeling the throb of what was definitely going to be a bruise. "It's just different to see it for real."

"I caught the end of the scuffle. Nice work," Silverfyre turned his head enough that Kris could see the blue of his eyes in the headlights of the car behind them and the razor's edge of his smile. "Just so you know."

Kris looked down, catching the gleam of the bloody blade he still had in his hand. "Can we pull over for a second?"

"Sure. Gimme a sec. Just gotta..." Silverfyre looked around and swung them off the road and into a shadowed alleyway between two buildings.

Kris stripped off the armor jacket to get at his t-shirt and tear a strip off it. It took longer than he wanted to clean the blade and check the dozen other screwdrivers and flanges of the tool. His arm was stiffening up but the jittery-warm feeling of victory was making him careless. There were dark stains on the sleeve of the armored jacket. "....huh. What're the odds that Firecracker won't notice the blood?"

"You kidding me?" Silverfyre huffed, crowding casually into Kris' personal space to peer at the jacket. "She'll spot it the second you're in the door. I think I got some armor cleaner in there too."

"You have," Kris rifled through the saddlebag. "-An empty packet of armor wipes. I don't think that counts."

"Ah, damnit," Silverfyre slouched against the bike, his shoulder pressing against Kris' back. "Yeah, she's going to have our asses."

"Well, the job is going to be all over the city tomorrow so there's no point lying about it then. We just need to stay out of her way until the last possible moment..." Kris turned to look up at Silverfyre's shadowed face. "Could you call her and say I'm tired and crashing at a motel on the way or something?"

"The Double S again?" Silverfyre asked, lips curling into a sneer. "Cause I really don't think so." Kris opened his mouth but Silverfyre was pushing on already. "Look, I gotta spare room. You're welcome to crash there. ...if you want."

"S-sure," Kris stuttered a little. A night in Silverfyre's apartment? This was crazy, stupid and outright self-destructive but they'd busted a _Fortress_ detention cell, fried a local office and uploaded a worm that was going to knock twelve points off their stock before morning in less than fifteen minutes. It was a night to live dangerously. "I mean, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind," Silverfyre assured him, swinging his leg over the bike. "I got beer and there's a pizza place on the corner that does the best pies in the city."

Silverfyre kept up the chatter the whole way to his apartment. Kris hummed and settled a little closer. He didn't feel like pizza. He didn't feel like the beer either. He felt like kicking down a corp zone tower, burning it to ash and making s'mores of great justice from the fire. He was listening just enough to catch Silverfyre's amazed glee at Kris' ability to handle himself and very slight relaxation in the lean body he was pressed against. Silverfyre hadn't known he could defend himself.

Kris could have been offended; he's lived five years in the Gauntlet and been a perpetual pain in Sensei Harihito's side for, well, longer. Instead, he thought about how Silverfyre had gone, left him behind defenseless because Kris had said 'I got it'. It wasn't much but Kris was tired of second-guessing and being afraid.

So when Silverfyre swiped the lock on his apartment door and stepped into a chaotic room filled with expensive stereo equipment and weapons, Kris screwed up his courage. Silverfyre let Kris step into his personal space, mouth half-open around an unfinished sentence and Kris wet his lips. It wasn't a good kiss, Silverfyre was too tall and Kris was clumsy, clacking their teeth together and mouths not really aligned.

He pulled back but Silverfyre moved with him. Kris had a second of panic but Silverfyre's hand was sliding into Kris' hair, guiding his head as the merc deepened the kiss. He'd never been kissed like that before and Kris felt his heart jack-hammering away in his chest. He pressed up into the kiss with growing confidence. Silverfyre didn't push him away but he didn't break the kiss until Kris curled his fingers in the belt loops of his armored pants and pushed him back a few inches. Kris kept his eyes on the floor, then on his hands; anywhere but Silverfyre's face. Nerves and the rush of adrenaline left him dizzy.

The buckles came loose easily and Kris slid to his knees, swallowing nervously around a suddenly dry throat. It had been _years_ and he couldn't remember any details suddenly, just that he needed to keep his teeth covered and breathe through his nose. Silverfyre's hand was on his shoulder suddenly, fingers digging into the muscle and fuck, he was strong. Probably strong enough to break Kris in two, in fact.

His heart kicked up a pace and he felt the loose set of his shoulders. Silverfyre wasn't exactly small and Kris' mouth felt dry as he risked a glance up. Silverfyre's eyes were dark, lips parted and wet. Kris swallowed, leaning forward to graze his lips against Silverfyre's cock.

"Oh god," Silverfyre breathed, hand tightening on Kris' shoulder as he reached for the merc's hips to steady himself. Kris darted another glance up, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. The tip of his tongue drew a thin wet line along the side of Silverfyre's cock and the merc groaned.

He wasn't pushing Kris away or telling him to stop. Encouraged, Kris leaned in, letting the insistent press of hard, slick flesh press his mouth open. The bitter/salt taste was weird but not as sour as Kris remembered. It was tricky to keep his teeth covered as Silverfyre pushed deeper and Kris felt his mouth flooding with saliva. He had to stretch his mouth uncomfortably wide which was harder than he'd remembered it being.

Silverfyre petted his hair and neck, restless fingers tracing where Kris' cheeks were stretched and down along his neck. His other hand was cradling the back of Kris' head, controlling and guiding. Silverfyre kept talking, a babble of words and moans tangled up with praise and encouragement. It sent shivers racing down Kris' spine and his erection pushed against the too-tight pants. He couldn't work a hand free to get his own zip. Silverfyre was too distracting, filling up Kris' senses and hotter than hellfire.

Kris' mouth felt too full and he tried to flatten out his tongue, curling against the underside of Silverfyre's cock. Silverfyre's constant stream of words stuttered into a low groan. Kris was struggling to breathe now but Silverfyre was moaning continuously. Kris pushed closer, forcing his jaw wider until he felt the unyielding bump of Silverfyre's cock against the back of his throat. Kris swallowed and Silverfyre jerked against him. Kris watched him through his lashes, hanging on to his hips as Silverfyre lost control.

The taste made him jerk back, choking a little but he couldn't look away. It was possibly the hottest thing Kris had ever seen; sweat sticking strands of hair to Silvefyre's face, blue eyes closed tight and white teeth bared. Kris stared up at him, his own neglected dick aching and thought _I did that._ in a whirl of pride and astonishment.

He sat back on his heels, jaw cramping and the salty-bitter taste of Silverfyre on his tongue. Silverfyre was panting, flushed and his hands fisted in Kris' jacket as he hauled him bodily to his feet. Kris got his hands around Silverfyre's wrists then his back hit the wall and Silverfyre was kissing him, nipping lightly at his lips and sucking at his tongue.

Kris arched back, felt the sting of teeth against his neck and Silverfyre's clever fingers working his fly open. Silverfyre kissed him again, fierce and greedy. Then he pulled away and Kris heard his knees hit the carpet. A second later, Silverfyre's mouth - hot and wet and too good - closed around Kris' aching cock. Kris had to sink his teeth into his wrist to suppress his howl and Silverfyre's tongue flicked against the underside of his cock and Kris's spine locked, muscles thrumming as the world whited out.

He didn't remember exactly what happened next, kissing, murmured words and a soft pillow under his cheek. He did remember the lax, comfortable looseness of his muscles and the way his knees wouldn't lock. Silverfyre kept him upright, chuckling and tactile as Kris slumped onto the bed and straight into exhausted sleep.

Kris woke up and blinked around at the unfamiliar room. It was morning and the sun was shining through the windows. He curled up on his side, back against the wall and arms tucked in against his chest. The bed, easily big enough to hold five people, was empty aside from him, and his bag and armor were stacked haphazardly by the door.

He smelt coffee and rolled out of bed. His jaw twinged as he yawned. The door led to a pocket-sized kitchen that was half-filled by the humming merc leaning against the counter.

"I thought the coffee might wake you. Good morning, baby," Silverfyre smiled, brushing his fingers against the back of Kris' hand as he handed him his coffee. Kris blinked and Silverfyre tensed. "You don't mind me calling you 'baby' do you? I'm an affectionate kinda guy but-"

Kris shook his head, holding his mug close to his chest. "No-yes, I mean...my name is-you could just call me -Kris."


	15. Chapter 15

Adam had been awake for a couple of hours, thinking, planning, staring at the ceiling. He’d just as good as tossed one of his rules off the top of One America Plaza, the highest damned building in the city, and watched it crash down thirty four floors down to shatter on the ground, but damn it had been good. Adam's last attempt at a serious relationship with a team-mate had ended with a fire fight that left Adam trapped half way between arrested and dead, and Zulu’s image slapped on a ten thousand cred contract, courtesy of Allison. Twelve hours later, Zulu was parts and Adam was buying the merc who'd put him down a drink. Clearing his record had taken a couple of days but it had taken Adam a lot longer than that to get his head back in the game. That mistake had complicated everything; muddied the waters and clouded his judgment. Not something a merc needed in the middle of a run.

Still Adam hadn’t said no when Juniper had dropped to his knees and given him one hell of a hummer, all enthusiasm and instinct rather than polished skill. It wasn’t something Juniper did often, that much was obvious, and Adam found that he liked that. Adam was a possessive son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he really wanted Juniper. He had been aware of the attraction between himself and Juniper, since the start; not only was the runner damned cute when he wasn’t hiding behind his goggles, but he was an enigma, and Adam loved a puzzle. Adam had been intrigued – attracted - but he’d kept it tightly in check, or at least he'd tried to.

Now, he lay in bed a little longer just to feel Juniper breathing slow and deep against his shoulder. He didn't so much as twitch until his internal alarm rang. Kissing Juniper on the forehead and rolling slightly, he managed to free himself from the tangle of limbs that was Juniper. Juniper’d snuggled closer during the night, not that Adam minded, but it did make getting up a perilous process. He didn’t want Juniper awake. Not yet. Adam had things to do and he didn’t want an audience.

Adam stepped into the bathroom, careful to keep his footsteps light, and closed the door behind him, locking it with a double lock. Turning on the tap, he let the water run for a minute before he knelt down and pried up the loose floor tile hidden carefully under the laundry hamper. Everything he needed was there, laid out carefully just as he'd left it yesterday. He double checked the almost invisible tamper detection traps he'd put in place just before he'd closed the compartment yesterday morning. It looked good. Nothing was moved, nothing had been touched.

Paranoia was a merc's best friend and there were definitely things about his morning routine that he didn't want anyone knowing, not even Juniper. Hell, even Allison didn't know half of the shit he took to keep himself on top of his game and he was happy to keep it that way. Didn't need the lectures that came with her knowing, or the cold turkey that she'd make him go through to clear the crap out of his system. He was a merc, a street merc, and a damned good one but that came at a price.

Vitamin tablets to replace what the metal leeched out. Iron tablets to counteract the side effects of the _Hitami Microcybernetic_ nanites still present long after he'd had the nanites purged. _Kyogen_ to keep his immune system from rejecting everything, and _Zaradone_ to reduce the chances of it shutting down totally. _Rygen_ to keep his heart rate steady and _Ambrox_ to keep his neurons firing and the neural network from sparking. That was just the beginning. Adam had to force down a whole fist full of pills every morning just to keep him moving. Red pills. Blue tablets. Tiny pink things hardly bigger than the head of a pin. Huge motherfuckers that made his eyes water trying to swallow them down. And still, the worst was yet to come.

He could skip some of them if he wanted without serious side effects but recently Adam had been running a little closer to the edge than he liked. Between Crusader’s recruitment drive, getting ready for the job and the threat of real damage when they actually ran against __Trojan__ , Adam couldn’t take the chance of relaxing his regime. He needed there to be a reservoir of everything he’d need just in case something went wrong.

Putting the pill bottles back in their places, Adam picked up the syringe kit and carefully picked out a new syringe and the nanite gel. He drew out fifty cc's of the gel and replaced the container. To that he added five cc's of _Oxy_ and another five cc's of _Mascolon_ and cleared their containers away, back into the kit. His hand shook slightly and Adam knew it was nerves. He _hated_ doing this every morning. _Hated_ it. But it was necessary.

Nanites spread through the bloodstream using it to travel wherever they were needed. Even first graders knew that, but what they did when they got there, that was where it started to get tricky. In a normal blue collar worker lucky enough to get healer nanites injected as part of their medical plan, it was simple. You cut yourself and the nanites healed you up. You got a cold, the nanites were dispatched to give your immune system a bit of backup, kicking the asses of any germs stupid enough to make their way into your system. You got a hangover, they made sure you were hydrated. Easy really, and no one gave it much thought. They were the forgotten backbone that people relied on and it never crossed their minds to think about how they worked and how they did their job.

Adam wasn't that lucky.

The whole process had been explained in graphic detail by Doc Savage the first time he got nanites injected into him and damned if he hadn't wanted to scratch through the skin on his arm trying to get them back out straight away.

For a regular Joe, it was fine. Any nanites damaged or used up in everyday life were replaced by cannibalizing the body's cells and converting them to brand new, shiny biorobots tasked with keeping you healthy. And for regular Joe's that was great. The nanites were programmed to go after fat cells first and then other types of cells leaving the harder to digest ones for last. They weren't under too much pressure and it was only a few cells here and there. But with a merc like Adam, it was a totally different story. On a run, the demands on a merc's nanites were massive. Lactic acid buildup, scrapes, scuffles, bruises, bangs, neural connections sparking, misfires and just pushing your body harder and faster than it was ever designed to go meant that the nanites were hard pressed to get everything fixed and burned out in a fraction the time that they should, meaning that the instructions are sent out to make more and because mercs, good mercs, didn’t carry much fat, that meant getting raw materials from whatever was around; muscle, sinew, grey matter. Nanites weren't exactly picky when their favorite natural food was all used up. That there was the reason that Adam had to pump himself full of chemicals every damned day.

The nanite gel and the various additives to it were tasty good to nanites and they'd use that first, leaving everything else intact. But it stung like a bitch going in, only settling when the nanites had noticed it and started moving it to wherever it needed to be.

Adam picked at the corner of the _FauxSkinn_ covering his plugs and pulled it back to reveal the ports. Just at the back, hidden from view was the port he wanted. The syringe pierced the covering without effort and Adam took a deep breath as he pushed the plunger. Fire, white hot heat fanned out from the port as the concoction made its way into his bloodstream, from the vein that it entered towards his core. He locked his muscles tight, not letting himself so much as breathe until it had started to pass. The syringe was pulled out and placed in a garbage container beside the kit and everything else was replaced. Adam made sure that everything was set before he put the floor tile back in place and moved the laundry hamper back to cover it.

He sat back, catching his breath. Every damned morning the same agonizing routine. His drug regime wasn't cheap either, not pharmacy rates, but still expensive. He shopped on the streets, going to reputable dealers all over the city. The _Oxy_ from one dealer, the _Kyogen_ from another so that no single person knew more than two drugs on his monthly shopping lists. Not that they'd tell anyone. Well, not unless the price was right.

Paranoia wasn't overkill. Not when there was always someone out to get you. One of the guys Adam first ran with, Lizzard, had been taken down hard when someone found out what made up his morning constitutional. Halfway through a job, the mark had slapped Lizard with an antidote cocktail that sent him crashing down. His heart had probably stopped before he even hit the pavement. Adam sure as hell wasn't going down that.

He pushed himself to his feet, resealing the compartment on his arm with the _FauxSkinn_ again and splashed water on his face and grabbed his toothbrush. He didn't bother showering yet. There'd be time for that later when Juniper was awake.

He still couldn't get over Juniper and the night before. Juniper had been so cautious, so careful, never turning his back on anyone, especially mercs, and then he'd dropped down and sucked off Adam, who could practically be the poster child for what a merc was supposed to be! He wasn’t complaining – he really wasn't – but there was left field and then there was this.

Whether it was an adrenaline high, that feeling that you needed to get out and do something, burn off the energy, or something else, Adam didn’t know. He was definitely hoping that Juniper wouldn’t freak about it, or worse, regret it. Either way, he’d just have to deal with the fallout when Juniper woke up. But one thing was sure, he wasn’t losing his runner over this. No matter what!

Unlocking the door, Adam checked on Juniper. He was still asleep, turned on his side and with a hand tucked under Adam’s pillow. Juniper looked a lot younger in his sleep, and angelic, and…and Adam was cutting this line of thought short right now! One quick fumble wasn’t enough to start thinking of hearts and flowers. But it was definitely enough for breakfast.

Adam huffed a laugh and shook his head as he made his way into the kitchen and went through the contents of the fridge. Luckily enough, he’d planned for a post-run breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausage links, tiny tender steaks, everything a merc needed. Adam pulled out the pans and started cooking. He hummed out one of the songs from his set, playing with the melody as he added milk to a pancake ready-mix. He flipped one of the steaks and spooned some of the meaty fat over the surface to stop it drying out as the percolator clicked on.

Soon the room was filled with the fantastic smells of breakfast and coffee. Not bad, even if he thought so himself. He was just finishing up when he heard the shuffling of feet from the bedroom. He looked barely awake and Adam pulled out a large cup and filled it with coffee.

"I thought the coffee might wake you. Good morning, baby," Adam smiled as he handed over the cup, letting his fingers brush against Juniper’s hand as he did. Juniper blinked up at him and Adam saw something there, a shadow but it was gone before he could place it. And Adam started to wonder if this was the beginning of a freakout. He tensed, trying for a half shrug, "You don't mind me calling you 'baby' do you? I'm an affectionate kinda guy but-"

Kris’ hands grasped the cup tightly, and shook his head, "No-yes, I mean...my name is-you could just call me -Kris."

Adam just about followed the stammering and nodded, considering, “Is that with a C or a K?”

Okay, that wasn’t a freakout. That was extra information. That was a name. Something real about Juniper that he hadn’t known before. This was good. This was very good.

Kris sipped at his coffee before answering, a slight smile quirking the corner of his lip, "K, if it matters. I promise you I'm not in the system.”

Kris-with-a-K, Adam thought to himself, trying on the name for size. It suited him. A spark of interesting in the middle of an otherwise ordinary name and yeah, Adam could see how that worked. The boy was anything but ordinary, always ready to spring a surprise out of that ratty backpack he carried with him.

Adam tilted his head a fraction and gave Junip... Kris a long look, thinking, “Hmm... You know, you kinda look like a Kris.” And seeing as they were swapping real names, “I'm gonna guess that you already know my name.”

“Which one?” Kris asked as the smirk grew into a real smile.

There was a hint of mischief there that worried Adam.

“How about my real one?”

“Adam Mitchell Lambert?” Kris answered without hesitation, leaving Adam to wonder just how much buried information Juniper had been able to pull up with his searches. Adam’d paid good money to get that name buried under enough rubble that no one should be able to find it again. And the runner had found it. Adam should have known better than to expect anything less.

“How 'bout we cut it down to just Adam.”

“Can do,” Kris said easily, “You protective of that name?”

“I wouldn't say that,” Adam shrugged. He wasn’t protective of his forename. Half the damned club knew his real name was Adam but the rest of it? Yeah. There was too much linked with his full name for him to be comfortable letting it be publically known. There were too many open wounds just ready and waiting to be poked by any passerby who happened to know they were there. “I don't spread it around, power of a name, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kris replied, and there was a bitter hint to his voice, “I know.”

It sounded like there was a story behind that, and Adam was curious but he didn’t want to push his luck. They were on new ground here, and tentative ground at that. Adam couldn't risk pushing too far too fast. Who knew what could happen? So Adam deflected instead.

“Do I even wanna know what other names you turned up?”

The smile returned to Kris’ face and there was genuine amusement in his eyes as he answered, “All of them.”

“Aw geez...” Adam felt his cheeks start to burn as he ran a hand through his hair. He’d made some damned bad decisions in his youth and some of the names he picked, or had picked for him, were less than stellar, “I was young and...”

“Had a booster habit,” Kris filled in, “Yeah. I know.” He bounced his shoulder and the coffee made a half-serious attempt to escape the cup, “That's why you wanted me, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Adam rolled his eyes. It was true, but he just wished that the runner he’d gotten to hide all that stuff had been half as good as Juniper. He tactically changed the subject, “I got bacon, eggs, sausage links and pancakes just in case you’re vegetarian.”

Kris looked over his shoulder to the various pans, “Thanks but no, carnivorous as they come.”

Adam smiled, “Great. Grab a seat, it's just about done.”

Kris pulled out one of the chairs at the tiny table and settled down, still holding tight to the coffee cup. Dividing out the meat and everything else, Adam brought Kris’ plate over and put it down in front of him. He grabbed cutlery and dropped it on the table beside the plate.

“Thank you,” Kris said before tucking in.

“Not a problem,” Adam shrugged.

Grabbing his own plate and a cup of coffee, Adam took the seat opposite. He was half way through his meal when a thought occurred to him.

“You know, we should probably talk about last night.” Kris flushed a little and looked firmly down at his plate. Adam could feel his own cheeks heat up. “The job.”

Kris’ eyes flicked up at that, “What about last night? Did Gibson not get home or something?”

“Nah,” Adam shook his head. “Nothing like that. Drey left a message around six am. Gee got home and Drey's sitting on him. Kinda literally,” he laughed.

Kris shivered dramatically, “...a little more information than I ever wanted. So what's the problem?”

Adam sat back in his seat, “We did good. _You_ did good.”

“Okay.” The word was drawn out and Kris was watching him, a frown creasing his forehead, “Then the job was good. What's the issue?”

Adam pushed a tiny piece of bacon around his plate as he thought about how best to phrase what he wanted to say, “We pulled it off with less than 2 hours prep. No casualties, no fatalities. On our side at least.”

“These are good things...unless the standards have _really_ changed lately,” Kris added.

He was missing the point.

Adam tried again, “That's what I mean. We pulled it off without a hitch. That's two jobs down. Two good jobs. Solid jobs.”

“Yeah,” Kris agreed, finally seeming to understand what Adam was saying. He sighed and put his fork down, “We're running out of time. With that much money, it's only a matter of time before someone with more brawn than brains tries the run.”

“I know,” Adam nodded. He could think of ten guys off the top of his head that were more than likely gearing up to try the run. With their methods and the teams they usually pulled from, they were doomed before they ever started the job. “If we're going to shoot for a third job, we're going to have to do it fast. We've got less than a week. Tops.”

“I can possibly get us a few more days,” Kris shrugged, “There's only a few data-runners stupid enough to try it and most of them have prices on their heads. Shouldn't be too much trouble to stir up the heat.”

Adam thought about that for a second. If they could scare off the data runners then they could definitely buy some time. It wouldn’t take much and if it gave them until the end of the week, that might just be enough.

“Okay,” Adam nodded, “Do what you can. The mercs likely to run this are already circling. I made it a little more difficult for them to get intel, so they're going to have to spend major amounts of cash and a lot of time to get even half of what I got.” He shrugged, “Won't matter to some of them, but they'll be the ones picked off at the outer gates.”

“Huh, not reassuring,” Kris tilted his head a fraction, “How discreet is Gibson?”

Adam frowned, not following the question, “Discreet how?”

Kris leaned forward, pushing his plate to the side, “How fast is word about that job going to spread? Zombies won't say anything outside of the gang, which means it's only the mercs who will talk.”

Adam sighed. Kris was right. Mercs these days seemed to come with no working sense of tact. As soon as they had a thought, it was out of their mouths and heading for higher ground. No brains, most of them. Adam, though, was old school merc. So was Gee.

“Gee won't say shit to anyone he doesn't like. And he doesn't like anyone 'cept Drey.”

“And Drey?” Kris asked, “How likely is it that he's spread the word?”

Adam thought for a second before answering, “Drey, by now, has probably worked out a couple of things. And if he hasn't, he'll be calling in a couple of favours to find intel on whoever sprung his boy.”

Kris sighed heavily, “My point is that this is going to spread like wildfire. At least none of them saw us.”

Adam debated whether to tell Kris or not but in the end, decided he needed to know, “Um... Not technically true.”

“...what?” All tone, all warmth was gone from Kris’ voice. Even his eyes had taken on a hard edge that made Adam itch for his armour and his biggest handgun.

“Gee may have...” Adam started, but stopped. “No, there’s no maybe about it. Gee saw me. He started to head back towards the guards when the cells opened. It was the only way to get him out of there.”

“But he won't talk, right?” Kris asked, leaning forward, “You said he didn't talk to other people.”

Adam shook his head, “He's not particularly going to want to put it out there that he owes someone else his life.”

Especially if that person was Adam. Gee didn’t like him at the best of times but owing Adam like that was going to drive him over the edge. Adam had a way to deal with that part of it. He'd just let Drey calm Gee down for a few days, and hope that someone else was stupid enough to piss Gee off in the meantime.

“Here's hoping,” Kris murmured. He looked around the kitchen for a second, searching for something and Adam couldn’t help but run his eyes over the surfaces. Kris patted down his pockets and came up with his phone. Flipping it open, he thumbed one of the buttons to check the display, relaxing slightly after a second, “Drew hasn't heard yet.”

Adam smirked, “Firecracker either, or she'd be breaking down my door.”

Kris closed the phone and put it back into his pocket. He was quiet for a second or two before looking Adam in the eye, “We need to start planning properly for the _Trojan_ job.”

Adam nodded, “You wanna see what I got now, or wait 'til later?”

They couldn’t put it off much longer. Adam had put aside the spare room and was using it as a giant cork board. Everything he knew about _Trojan_ , _Nebula_ and all the personalities in between. Every stray rumour he’d managed to glean from his sources. Every scrap of information he’d managed to pry loose. It was all in there, linked together and logically organised, categorised and ready to help them develop a plan of action.

“Well,” Kris pulled at his sweaty t-shirt and the corner of his mouth twitched, “Could I maybe clean up first?”

“Yeah, course,” Adam answered immediately. “Shower is through there,” he said pointing in the direction of the bedroom and it’s en-suite bathroom, “towel's on the rail, use what you need.”

“Thanks,” Kris pushed the chair back and stood, finishing his coffee before heading back to Adam’s room.

Adam cleared the plates and cleaned up the kitchen, and put them in the washer. Behind him he could hear the water start and just at the edge of his hearing, there was a low moan from Kris. Adam smiled and then stopped. The water was louder than he expected, not muffled. As if Kris had... Adam chanced a look around the bedroom door and sure enough Kris had left the door open a fraction. Steam was starting to curl around the frame and creep out into the bedroom but Adam wasn’t paying any attention to it. He was too busy trying to fight off the part of himself that wanted to throw the door open the rest of the way and see exactly what Kris was hiding under the baggy clothes he always wore. He felt himself start to harden as he imagined the rivulets of water making their way down Kris’ body to his hard...

Adam forced himself back into the kitchen and tried to distract himself from the mental images his brain was throwing at him. He tried humming the opening lines of a song, one he played every night he stepped onstage at _Idolize_ but got lost a line in and just kept repeating the line in the vain hope that something would come to him. But his brain was being a bastard today and trying to torture him. And his cybermodifications didn’t help him. Not when he could hear every moan and groan coming from the bathroom.

He turned on the vidscreen, flicking through the channels in a vague attempt to distract himself but his gaze kept returning to the bedroom. Adam tapped his fingers against his leg trying to figure out what to do. On the one hand, walking in there could damage the tenuous relationship they had going, but on the other, Kris left the door open and he hadn’t been freaking out about what they did. It could be an invitation. Adam knew the door closed easily and locked tight. He had to have left it open deliberately. Didn’t he?

Adam hesitated at the bedroom door, sneaking a peek through the crack at the mirror. It was fogged up but he could see movement and the telltale glow of embedded light tattoos, inert plasma and silica shaped and moulded into fantastically intricate shapes and set into the skin. He palmed his cock through his pants and with a whispered ‘fuck it’ walked in, pushing the door open a little further and taking in the sight of the very naked, very wet data runner all soaped up in his shower.

Adam knew that he’d gone overboard on the extravagance of his shower but damn it was paying off now. The shower stall was easily big enough for a full team of mercs, made of toughened glass with chrome fixings that kept every stray drop of water contained. Four huge rainfall showerheads, each easily bigger than the wheels on his bike, were set into the ceiling and hooked up to a tank that Adam had ordered specially from Detroit. It had cost a fortune but he could stand under the water for two hours and never run out of scalding hot water and that alone made it worth every cred.

Kris was just standing under the water, his face turned up and his hands braced against the wall. There was a look of such absolute bliss on his face that Adam felt a lazy pulse of heat along his spine. He guessed that Kris wasn’t used to hot running water. Adam hadn’t stayed in the Gauntlet for years but the last time he'd crashed at one of the few ratbag motels, he’s been given a can of Insta-Showah and been damned lucky to get that much.

Taking a carefully calculated risk, Adam stripped off his t-shirt and leaned back to rest against the counter, arranging himself so that he looked artfully casual. He had to cough twice before Kris looked over. Adam smirked, “You really like your showers.”

Kris tipped his face back up to the water for a moment before looking back at Adam and answering, “Not like there's a lot of indoor plumbing in the Gauntlet.”

Adam pushed himself of the counter, using every ounce of grace and poise he had, “Need a hand to wash your back?”

Even through the foggy glass and the streams of water, Adam could see Kris’ cheeks pink up but he didn't hesitate. “...yeah. Sure.”

Kris’ hands dropped to modestly cover his cock but Adam could see that it was starting to perk up already. Adam licked his lip, hungry for Kris.

He’d had better lovers – no, that wasn’t right. He’d had more practiced lovers but there were none that clicked with him as well as Kris did. Raw enthusiasm and genuine desire beat disconnected skill every time.

Adam pulled open the stall door leaving his sleep pants in a puddle on the floor and stepped in. Kris was half-facing him, still shy despite the bravado of his answer. His gaze glanced off Adam and then down to his feet before flicking back up to meet Adam’s eyes. Adam took a second to let his eyes walk over Kris’ skin.

One thing was certain; Kris was not your ordinary data runner. That was not the body of someone who lived on cheetos and mountain dew. He was honed and ripped and all of it hidden under baggy clothes. And on his pale skin, there were a couple of stellar tattoos. Had anyone asked him yesterday, he’d have bet any amount of creds that Juniper would have even a tiny tattoo let alone have such masterfully done pieces inked out on his body. Adam’s fingers traced over the image of a dragon stretched out from his collarbone back over this shoulder and down his arm, its tail curling around the bicep to end just shy of the elbow, a mixture of clean lines and circuitry detail.

Adam hooked a crooked finger under Kris' chin, tipping him up into the kiss as Adam pressed closer. Kris moaned and Adam kissed him again, ghosting his lips over Kris’ until Kris relaxed against him. Warm water cascaded over them as Adam deepened the kiss, teasing Kris with a flick of his tongue, until Kris’ lips parted. Adam inched closer until Kris was pressed up against him, his cock lined up with Adam’s. Another groan and Adam smiled, breaking the kiss. Kris opened his eyes, blinking once, twice as he caught his breath. The pulse point at the base of Kris’ throat fluttered madly and Adam released him.

He reached behind Kris to the shelf and picked up a bottle of body wash. Flipping the lid open, he caught the scent of bergamot and lavender with a hint of geranium hiding behind it and under it all the faintest hint of juniper. With just a hint of a smirk, Adam poured a liberal amount onto his cupped palm and put the bottle aside.

Stepping around Kris, Adam started at his shoulder blades, one hand spreading the gel down over Kris’ skin and the second following it closely, skimming over already sensitized skin. Slow languid movements, teasing touches as he mapped Kris’ back, from the spread demon wings that tapered down to perfectly wrought feathers at the tips to the rise of his ass. Kris’ back arched against the cool gel and Adam leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of his shoulder. Kris shivered as Adam brushed the sides of his ribs and didn’t quite manage to swallow back a groan as Adam’s thumbs brushed over the hollow at the base of his spine.

Adam brushed the cleft of Kris’ ass with his fingers and Kris tensed and Adam backed off a little, fingers rising back up the spine. He tensed again as Adam’s hands topped his shoulder blades until Adam spread his hands out over his shoulders instead. Just hiding under the dark hair at the back of his neck, Adam could see a latticework of scars around the data plugs, and just hiding there in the midst of the scars, two perfect halos glowing dimly – Adam focused in on them and could just make out a circuitry design so complex that Adam got lost in the detail for a second.

Fuck. Another surprise. No one got tattooed on their plugs. No one. It was like getting kicked in the nuts but about twice as painful and itchy. So goddamned itchy as it healed. And Adam should know. Adam had gotten his own tattoo close to his own plugs and he’d cursed every damned time it touched off anything for that first month. And he’d sat through it. The time it had to have taken to get the intricate circuitry just right and embedded perfectly had to be epic. The tattoos were perfect. Yet another surprise. There was so much he didn’t know about Kris, about Juniper and all he could do was hope that he’d have the time to discover more about the man and the runner.

There was something wrong with the plugs. He leaned in closer. The plug interfaces themselves looked scratched, damaged, broken and Adam understood why he’d tensed up. That wasn’t a blown plug or repeated use. That was something deliberate, the sign of an attack designed to cripple a data runner and another piece of the Juniper puzzle fell into place.

Adam moved closer to Kris, fitting himself against the other man’s body as his hands kept working over Kris’ skin. He let his hands snake around to the front, tracing over Kris’ chest as Adam kissed and nuzzled Kris’ neck. The tension was still there, Adam could feel it under his fingertips, coiled muscle ready to bolt. Adam nipped gently at Kris’ neck as he ran his hands over Kris’ nipples. The tension faded away and Kris melted back into him. He circled Kris’ nipples with his fingers, teasingly close but not quite touching the sensitive nubs. Not yet. He traced over the defined muscles of Kris’ abs with his free hand until he felt the course hair under his hand and grasped Kris’ cock firmly.

The lather on his hand worked well enough for lube and Adam stroked Kris’ length, using his thumb to flick over the crown in time with the teasing brush of his fingers against Kris’ nipple. Kris bucked against him, his head thrown back giving Adam access to his neck. Adam licked and nibbled and worried the flesh as he brought Kris closer to the edge, easing off when he heard the hitch of breath that betrayed the limit of Kris’ control. Slow strokes mixed with fast, Adam drew out the moment as long as he could.

“Yes. Please. God.”

The words were little more than whispers, drawn out whimpers.

" _Adam_."

Adam’s own cock was nestled against Kris’ ass and the friction as Kris bucked into Adam’s hand was bringing him so close. Just a few more minutes and...

Adam nearly came right there as Kris wiggled against him. But Adam had his revenge, pinching Kris’ nipple sharply as he nudged the underside of the crown and Kris came hard, with a garbled cry that might have been Adam's name. Adam rubbed against Kris’ ass, loving the way that Kris came apart during the climax. Adam focused on the feelings, the feel of Kris’ ass against his cock, the warmth. He closed his eyes and let himself go.

Adam’s arms held Kris close, still stroking his cock lightly and kissed his neck and throat and everywhere he could reach. Kris' head tipped back against Adam's shoulder and Adam looked down into Kris’ dark brown eyes and bent to share a kiss, slow and languid in the post-orgasmic haze.

They washed off the suds and stepped out in companionable silence. Adam tossed a towel to Kris and took one for himself. He couldn’t help but watch as Kris dried himself off. He was hot and moved with a grace that Adam hadn’t seen outside the merc circles. The muscles on his back rippled and Adam felt himself start to harden again.

He stepped closer to Kris, reaching out to touch but before he could, a loud banging sounded on the apartment door. Allison’s shouted threats filtered through and Adam cursed.

“I guess Firecracker’s heard then,” Adam sighed. “Stay here until I get her calmed down. She’s got a bit of a temper and she tends to throw things when she’s angry.”

Kris nodded and clutched the towel tighter. Adam grabbed a pair of sweats in the bedroom and pulled the door behind him before going out to answer the door. He stopped just long enough to pull on the sweats and unlocked the door. Allison pushed past him as soon as Adam started to open the door.

“What the hell do you think you were playing at last night?” she was in full Fixer mode now and working up to a full blown temper flare. “What the hell did you think you were doing running against _Fortress_ with no prep time? Do you want to get yourself killed? Do you have some sort of a death wish? Cause if you do, tell me now and I’ll do it myself. Do you have any idea what sort of resources _Fortress_ are throwing at this new problem? Do you?”

She seemed to be waiting for an answer and Adam took the opportunity, “It needed to be done. They were rounding up anyone they could. They picked up Gee. Andre called last night just before I went on to tell me. You know he’s on a red ticket with _Fortress_! If they’d gotten him back to base, they’d have euthanized him. And yeah, the guy’s a dick but there was no damned way I was letting that happen.”

That slowed her down a little.

“Okay that explains why you did it, but why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she asked, “I could have helped, gotten you a team, set up distractions. Jeez Adam, what the fuck?”

“It was fine. Juniper and I ran the job. He was primary on it, ran the systems while I dealt with the on-the-ground security and put on a nice big flashy show for them,” Adam shrugged, “It went well. Better than I thought it would. Juniper is solid.”

Allison looked like she was about to hit him and Adam tensed. She didn’t try, just settled for poking him in the chest with a very sharp fingernail.

“He’s solid? Can I just remind you that this is the same Juniper who hasn’t run in years? The one that Minx said didn’t do runs?” Allison pushed him back a little at a time until his back was flat against the wall, “And now he’s solid? Oh no, Adam, you don’t get to take a midnight run and decide that you’re going to run against one of the biggest corps in the damned city with nothing but what you got in the club. Did you even have your full rig there?”

“Firecracker,” Adam’s voice was cold. He might think of her like the little sister he never had, but she’d crossed a fairly major line, and Allison should have known better than that. “You’re pissed at me. Fine. We didn’t tell you, you got scope there to be a little annoyed. But that’s it. I took a job last night and ran it with my partner. We got in, got out and all the prisoners are currently free to do whatever it is they do with their lives. Juniper planned the run, covered all the angles, but give me credit for enough brains to have at least three escape plans worked out just in case it all went to shit.” He sighed, “I’ve been doing this for longer than you have Firecracker. Remember that.”

“Don’t you even...” Allison started, “You like the guy, Adam – don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking looks at his ass in the club – but damn it, the fact that he looks good in armour isn’t a good enough reason to let him plan a raid.”

Adam brushed a hand through his hair and tried to calm down. His voice was quiet when he spoke, “Allison, you know how much the _Trojan_ job means to me. I’m not about to throw that all away because my data runner happens to be hot. Juniper planned the run last night and ran primary on it, telling me where he needed me to be and what he needed me to do, just like I did with him on the last run. We work well together. He can hold his own in a fight so I don’t need to watch his back and mine at the same time. We’ve got good chemistry and he’s got his head on straight. Neither of us took any stupid risks last night.” Adam paused and met her eyes, “We’re ready for the _Trojan_ run. And we’re going to ace it.”

Allison’s mouth opened and closed and she seemed to be at a loss for words. She sat down heavily on the arm of the couch and just stared at him.

“You mean it don’t you?”

Adam nodded, “He’s good. He’s really good. He can handle _Nebula_.”

She just looked at him and shook her head, “Okay. Fine. Just... Just don’t do anything with _Trojan_ until you talk to me. I’ve got a couple of contacts who are bringing me some up-to-date intel on _Trojan_ and _Nebula_.”

“You got it,” Adam smiled at her.

Allison pulled him in for a hug, clinging on tight. Adam held her close until she pulled back. She looked up at him for a moment and then thumped his arm, hard as she could. Adam barely felt it.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!”

“I promise,” Adam said.

“Well... Okay then,” she fixed her clothes and made to leave, “Oh and tell him that if he’s free, we’d really like him back down in _Idolize_ tonight. Carlos is still MIA.”

Adam schooled his features, “Sure, I’ll tell him if I see him.”

Allison rolled her eyes, “I’m not an idiot either, Adam. He didn’t come back to mine last night and I doubt you’d have let him go back to a dodgy motel. Say hi for me and for God sake, make sure he’s got enough energy for his shift.”

Adam’s cheeks heated a little, “I’ll pass along your message.”

Allison left and Adam headed back to the bedroom just in time to hear Drew on the phone reaming out Kris. It sounded oddly familiar. Nice to know that no matter what fixer you dealt with in the city, they all had a way of talking to you like you were ten just because you didn’t give them a heads-up. But while Allison ranted about newbie datarunners – and really she should know better at this stage, there was more than enough evidence out there to prove that whoever he’d been before, this wasn’t his first outing – Drew was haranguing Kris about no-good, bastard mercs.

“You can’t trust him, Jay. He’s just out to get the pay check. He’ll leave you hanging in the wind. Back away now and I’ll cover your tracks. He’ll never find you again.”

Adam chanced a glance over his shoulder and almost fumbled it as he saw Kris sliding barbells through his nipples, phone cradled between ear and shoulder. How the hell did Adam miss those? What other surprises was Kris hiding behind his pseudo-geek persona?

“Jesus, Drew!” Kris sounded exasperated, and Adam couldn’t blame him. “It was my idea!”

Adam dialled up his audio filters, eager to hear the reply.

“Your idea to run against _Fortress_ with no prep time, no backup and half-fried plugs?”

Adam stopped dead, his fingers clutching an old band t-shirt. Half-fried plugs? Seriously? What the hell was Kris thinking? Fuck. Adam was going to have to follow up on that. He needed Kris to be at his best if they were going to pull off the run against _Nebula_. Shit! How bad were they fried? When you had conductive wire running from your wrists straight into your central nervous system, any misfire was bad, but Adam needed to know exactly what they were talking about here? Was he just in pain, or was there a real danger that he was about to electrocute himself? Was Drew exaggerating? Fuck!

Adam forced himself to calm down and pulled out the t-shirt, shaking it out to unfold it. He pulled it on quickly and smoothed it down.

“ _Yes_ , god. I'm not a kid, Drew.” Kris wasn’t happy. His voice dropped dangerously low and Adam shivered at the cold, harsh tone. Fuck, there were mercs out there, completely out of their minds with cyberpsychosis and combat drugs, who unsettled Adam less than Kris did right now. “This was _my_ plan and _my_ goddamned run. Stop treating me like a kid. I know what the fuck I'm doing.”

Drew didn’t even pause, “And you're letting your dick do the thinking!”

“Fuck. You.” There was venom in Kris’ voice now, “I'm not stupid, Drew. Keep treating me like I am and we're done. Okay?”

Adam kept his back to Kris and crept out of the room as quietly as he was able. This was another side to Kris, one he hadn’t seen before and Adam wondered again who he’d been before he’d been Juniper and exactly why he’d had to dump his old persona. There was a spine of steel to the man behind the meek and shy Juniper mask. Adam replaced the filter and filled the coffee pot with water and poured it into the top of the percolator. He slotted the pot under the tap and started to consider how he’d raise the issue of the half-fried plugs. He’d seem how damned stubborn Kris had been about a place to crash. Just how bad was he going to be about his cyberware?

”Yeah. Okay,” Juniper was calmer now, “Yeah, I'll call him. You too.”

Kris was leaning against the bedroom door when Adam looked around, “Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem,” he shrugged, “Firecracker ripped me a new one too.”

“I heard,” Kris admitted and Adam felt a little less guilty about listening in on his call.

“Yeah, she wasn’t exactly subtle,” Adam smirked, “And she knows you spent the night here.”

Kris blushed bright red, “Okay.”

Adam replayed his own words back in his head and covered his eyes with his hand, grimacing as he realised how it sounded, “She doesn't know about _that_ , just that you crashed here. I think she figures you didn't want to brave her apartment after taking the run last night.”

Kris looked up at him, “...that's not really better.”

Adam shrugged, “She's more than likely not going to yell at you. She may glare a little, but she's not going to yell. That's a job for your own fixer.”

Kris glanced down at the phone, “Yeah...he's already done that.”

Adam poured out two large mugs of freshly brewed coffee and handed one over to Kris, “And you'll be glad to know that she's not mad enough that she didn't ask me to pass on a message. If you feel up to it, and if you want to, she's still short one for tonight in _Idolize_.” Adam rolled his eyes, “Don't sweat it if you got stuff you want to do though.”

“Huh...we'll see, I guess,” he answered non-committally.

Adam leaned back against the counter, and sampled his coffee. It was dark and rich, with hints of dark chocolate through it and nowhere near distracting enough to stop Adam’s brain from working overtime. So many questions and no answers. That was about to change, but Adam would have to go carefully.

“You got plans for today?” Adam asked.

“Not at the moment?”

Kris’ eyes flicked down to Adam’s chest and Adam had to fight off the wave of arousal that swept through him. He’d love to spend all day wrapped around Kris and kissing every inch of his body.

“Good...”

Kris flushed red again and tried to hide behind his coffee cup.

Adam tapped his finger against the cup as he struggled with the words. He opened his mouth and almost started to say something but stopped himself. He didn’t want to sound accusatory.

Kris didn’t miss his fumblings, “And now that I'm properly worried, what's biting you?”

Adam sighed, “I... I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I caught some of Drew's conversation when I was getting a shirt.” He scruffed his hair before finger combing it back into place.

Kris’ expression closed down, leaving Adam floundering. He was going to have to be careful. If he pushed too hard, Kris would be gone and with him any chances of completing the _Nebula_ job, and worse than that, he’d lose a friend and he didn’t have enough of them that he could afford to lose one.

Adam looked up and met Kris’ eyes, “Half-fried plugs? I've noticed you rubbing your wrists. How bad is it?”

Kris’ eyes dropped to his wrist, where he was unconsciously rubbing at his wrist plugs. His hands stilled and dropped, “Depends on your definition of 'bad'.”

“Did something happen?” Adam asked, “Do you need to see a cyber doc?”

“There's nothing wrong with them but age,” he shrugged, “I can't afford to do anything about it for a couple of days.”

Adam sipped his coffee, “How bad is it? I can front you what you need if that would help?”

Kris looked away, not meeting Adam’s gaze, “It's fine.”

Adam pushed a little harder, “Is it affecting your connection speeds, the connection reliability? Just tell me, Kris, how bad is it? If we're going to start planning the _Nebula_ side of the run, I need to know.”

Kris answered reluctantly, “...they're wearing out. They're Cerberus 397-XY-5s.”

“That's what?” Adam worked it out, “Five... six years old? Are they misfiring yet? Or have they started sparking?”

Kris shrugged, “A little sparking in the last week.”

“If you get them installed today, that means you get an extra couple of days to settle into them and break them in. Running with new 'ware is difficult and dangerous.”

Adam had done it once, okay twice, and it had been the worst experience ever. New speed ware that kicked in intermittently. One second he were running for his life, with the best that tech had to offer speeding his steps and the next... He'd barely been able to lift his foot. There had been ten gangers chasing him down narrow streets intent on spreading his brains all over the pavement and he couldn’t move. Every muscle had locked down tight. He’d heard their feet echoing through the streets, coming closer and closer and suddenly Adam could move again. He'd gotten a whole ten feet before he locked up again. He’d powered everything down and run on pure meat for the rest of the job.

The _Trojan_ job was going to be hard enough for Kris without the random misfires that came with new ‘ware. But if they were replaced today, he could wear them in and get everything set up to his preference. But Kris was stubborn.

“I haven't got the cred right now and I can't get hold of more until I get a deck.”

Adam frowned, genuinely puzzled, “What's wrong with the deck you used last night?”

He hadn’t seen anything happen to Kris’ deck and Kris hadn’t mentioned anything. As far as Adam knew it was sitting against the wall in the ratty backpack that Kris carried everywhere with him.

Kris leaned over to his bag and picked it up, stretching the fabric until Adam could see the bullet hole. Reaching in, Kris pulled out the deck and turned it over. Neatly embedded in the back was a .45 caliber bullet.

“That’s what’s wrong with it.”

“Ah shit!” Adam cursed and took the deck from Kris.

Cracks spread out across the casing and Adam could see the shattered components through the cracks. While he didn’t know too much about decks or how to make them, he knew enough that it would take a couple of grand to fix it, maybe more and he guessed that Kris didn’t have that sort of cred hanging around.

Adam handed it back and slouched back against the counter. Adam had cred. Here in the apartment, he had more than enough to pay for a new deck and any upgrade that Kris might want, and he’d be only too happy to lend it to him, but the runner wouldn’t take it. There were other options.

He took a deep breath, “Look, I got a friend, a street cyber doc, he can run you an account until you can raise the cred?” he shrugged, “He's not exactly cheap but he's good. I get most of my 'ware there. It's all certified and his credit rate isn't going to kneecap you.

But Kris wasn’t going for it, “It's fine.”

“Look,” Adam held up his hand, “don't dismiss it out of hand. Just think about it. The doc's name is Stinger, used to run under Steyr until about three years ago. Look him up.”

“Thanks, but no,” Kris was firm, “I'll have the cred tomorrow probably.”

Adam knew he was pushing it, but this was important, “And enough for a new deck?”

Kris was more hesitant this time but still stubborn, “I'll manage.”

Adam tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. There was a chink there, he could hear it in his voice, he just needed to be careful how he did this.

“We both know that we're on a tight timeline for this. Let me help.”

Kris’ thumb rubbed over his plugs again. He didn’t say anything and Adam could see the wheels turning in his brain. Kris was smart, Adam knew that and he was invested in this run every bit as much as Adam was and that was what Adam was playing on.

Eventually he answered, “Drew knows what I need.”

Adam couldn’t believe his ears but he was taking the win where he could, “Okay, I'll give him a call and see what we can sort out.”

“Oh, I need to hit a store,” he shrugged, “I'm out of clean clothes.”

Adam watched Kris’ face carefully. Was this just a ruse to get out of the apartment and run or did he really mean it? Shit! Adam took a chance, “You need a lift?”

“...yeah,” Kris nodded, “Please.”

Adam smiled, so relieved he felt high, “Sure. Let me grab some shoes, or do you have a little time before you need to go?”

He put his cup in the sink and headed towards the bedroom. He hesitated beside Kris, wanting to reach out and touch him, kiss him, do something but this was all so new and he wasn’t sure if he’d pushed it too far already. And yeah, he knew it was necessary but he really liked Kris.

Kris looked up at him and Adam could see the same feelings reflected back at him. Kris broke the gaze and looked down, “I need to grab my jacket.”

Adam felt his heart fall but Kris still hadn’t moved. Standing up on his tiptoes, Kris kissed Adam’s cheek and then he was gone, back into the bedroom. Adam sighed in relief and reached up to touch his cheek. He was really glad that the argument hadn’t killed whatever they had here. It was new, but there was a part of Adam that hoped it was going to last past the run.

It didn’t take long to get dressed. He swapped his sweats for armoured trousers and pulled on his armoured jacket over his t-shirt. Combat boots finished the look and he was ready. Kris settled behind him on the bike, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist as Adam turned over the engine. Kris tapped his shoulder at the first store they passed and Adam pulled in. It was a low cost warehouse that carried everything from pre-packed meals to high explosives and it figured that Kris would shop there.

Adam parked the bike by the door and offered to go with him, but Kris assured him that he’d only be a minute. Adam doubted that he’d even try on the clothes, just search for the right sizes and pick them off the rail. Kris disappeared into the store and Adam pulled out his cell phone, taking the opportunity to call Drew and set up whatever it took for Kris to get his plugs fixed.

The phone was picked up straight away, “What?”

“Drew, it’s Silverfyre. Got something I need to run past you.”

“Joy,” Adam could feel the sarcasm, “What's up?”

Adam cut straight to the point, “J's plugs. I understand he's got a problem. I said I'd liaise with you about what exactly he needs.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone and then Drew spoke, “His secondary plugs are sparking, he'll need the wires tapped and the plugs replaced. His primaries need a full replacement. I can source some of the new Cerberus plugs and nanos but he's being a stubborn SOB.”

It was more information than Adam expected and he wondered if Kris had sent the fixer a message. Adam wouldn’t put it past him. But if it eased his way with the ornery fixer, all the better.

“I got a cyber doc, Stinger,” Adam said, “He's good but if he's got a doc he'd prefer, let me know. I got a tentative agreement out of him but I don't want to push him too far by signing him up to a doc he doesn’t trust.”

Drew sighed, “He won't let Stinger near him. I'll call Nakamura.”

Nakamura was street doc elite, especially when it came to neural ware, but he was impossible to see. Runners waited a year and more to get an appointment and even then, if he didn’t like the look of you, he just said no and had his bouncers kick your ass back out onto the pavement. Adam had seen him once after he’d had someone bounce his skull off the front of a Honda. His neural wiring had been knocked out of alignment and kept firing off whenever it felt like it. He’d had a favour with one of the guys at the head of the queue and called it in. Nakamura had fixed him right up. His neural ware had worked better than ever after the visit. Adam had no favours to call on with Nakamura now and he knew it. If Drew could work a little magic then Adam’d have Kris there in fifteen seconds flat and ask no more questions.

“Okay. That works. You got an idea on the price list?”

“Price?” Drew hemmed at the other end of the line, “....well, when do you want it done?”

“ASAP,” Adam was honest. “The window is closing fast. If he's going to get upgraded and get everything run-ready, it's going to have to be in the next 24 hours.”

“You're looking at probably at least fifty K. Give or take five grand.”

Adam was expecting a high price tag but wow!

“I'll sort it. He's going to need deck components as well but I'm sure he'll be in touch about that if he needs help. His got thrashed last night.”

No use in hiding it. Drew already knew about the run, might as well warn him that he was going to have a busy afternoon.

“He'll get Kickstand on that. I never handled his tech.”

That surprised Adam. He just assumed that Kris went through Drew for everything, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Okay. Anything I else I need to know?”

Drew sighed heavily and Adam could hear a clink of a glass down the line, “He's going to need someone there with him. Especially for the primary replacement. I'll make sure Nakamura doesn't mess up his tats.”

Adam frowned, “I wasn't planning on dropping him at the door and running, Drew. What are we looking at? Drug reactions? Phobias? Morbid fear of doctors?”

Just exactly what sort of hand-holding was Drew expecting here? Was this something to do with the damage that Adam had seen this morning, some sort of post-traumatic shit that Adam needed to worry about?

“...he doesn't trust people behind him. I'm going to do you the courtesy of assuming you've noticed the martial arts training by now. He can do a lot of damage when he's startled.”

“How bad are we talking here?” Adam asked, “Do I need to keep him from shredding the doc?”

“Just...” Drew trailed off, “Keep him distracted. He should handle the rest of it fine. He probably won't take the painkillers. Don't argue. It won't work.”

Adam laughed and there was a bitter tone to it, “I think I've pushed my luck with him far enough just getting him to agree to get the plugs changed.”

“Hmm,” Adam thought he heard agreement in the non-committal noise Drew made but he wasn’t sure. “You got him to go. Kickstand and I have been trying for the last year and he's blown us off every time.”

“Wasn't easy,” Adam admitted, “but with the job on the horizon, I had a little leverage. Send me the details when you get them and I'll get him there. Text you when he's done.”

“Will do. Take care of him,” Drew ordered.

Adam assured the fixer that he would and he was left listening to the dial tone. The man still didn’t like him but when they were focused on the same things, he was... tolerable.

Adam looked around and saw Juniper chatting with the sales clerk. Adam kicked his leg over the bike and turned it over, driving slowly to the front door to wait for Kris. He was out a couple of seconds later, stuffing the bag into his backpack. He hopped on and Adam kicked the bike into overdrive. Kris clung on tightly and Adam smiled.

They spent the rest of the day back at the apartment curled around each other. Any stress from that morning’s conversation was behind them now and they were back to figuring out what this was between them. Adam almost forgot to call Allison and tell her that Kris had plans for the evening.

Drew called a little after eight and told them that the meet was set for nine. There was just enough time to grab a quick shower and dress before they had to head out.

The doc’s place was on the other side of the city in a converted office building used by fixers, dealers and people who generally wanted to stay off the grid. The bouncers on the door glared down at them, easily towering over Adam, and waited until they had confirmation from Nakamura himself before letting them in. In stark contrast to the run down exterior, the office itself was clean and ordered. Just inside the door, there was a small waiting room with cable TV pouring out the news for the city and a ticker tape of everything that the networks deemed un-newsworthy scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Adam scanned it as they waited and smiled a little as he spotted a mention of last night’s _Fortress_ job.

Kris was quiet, drawn in on himself a little and Adam put it down to nerves. Adam took a seat and Kris sat down a second later. Nakamura stepped through after a while and looked Kris up and down. He didn’t even look in Adam’s direction. Adam’s eyes narrowed as he saw a flicker of recognition cross Nakamura’s eyes and his fingers itched for his gun.

“Juniper?” Nakamura asked, looking down at a file.

Kris nodded.

“If you’ll come with me, we’ll get to work.”

Kris stood and so did Adam. Kris was guided through a door at the back of the room and told to take a seat on the bed. Adam followed but was cut off by the doctor. Nakamura was small, no more than five foot six but right now, Adam had never seen anyone scarier. Everything about him just screamed ‘fuck with me and it’ll be the last thing you do’.

“Your presence is not required, Mister Silverfyre.”

“Doctor...” Adam started but the man cut over him.

“The waiting room is quite comfortable.”

Adam shook his head, “With all due respect, doctor...”

But Nakamura spoke over him again, “Are you Juniper’s next of kin?”

“No, but...”

“Then you have no business being present while I take his history,” his eyes narrowed, “Please do not make me call for my security agents.”

Adam held up his hands. He wasn’t happy about this. He’d promised Drew that he would be there for Kris and now, Nakamura was putting him back out into the waiting room.

Adam tried once more, “Look, I promised his fixer that I’d be there while you were doing the upgrade. Juniper needs...”

“I think I know what is best for my patient, Mister Silverfyre,” Nakamura growled out the words and Adam backed up a little. “But if he should ask for your presence at any time during the procedure, I shall send for you.”

Adam sighed. It looked like that was the best he could hope for.

“Juniper,” Adam called over the doc’s shoulder, “You want me here, you call out, okay? I’ll hear you.”

There was a snort from the doctor and Adam glared down at the man. He backed up, stepping into the waiting room and Nakamura pushed the door closed. Adam pushed his cyber audio to max, filtering out the sounds from the vid feed, but there was nothing. Dead silence.

“Fuck!” Adam cursed.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. He was tempted to call Drew but he really didn’t want the fixer to know that he couldn’t even do one simple thing right. Two things he’d had to do. One: get Kris here on time. And two: stay with him. Adam felt like punching something but there was nothing here to punch except the chairs. Even the vid unit was behind reinforced glass. From the look of it, not even an RPG could pierce that glass.

Adam sat down, gripping the seat of the chair tightly to keep himself from jumping up and trying to tear down the door. He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling about this, and there was damn all he could do about it. Not stuck in here. Not when Nakamura had a panic button right beside him and a dozen mercs ready to pile in and tear him to shreds in seconds. Adam didn’t have any illusions about his skills: he was good, one of the best in the city, and no he wasn’t being immodest. There was a list out there ranking every merc in the city and he’d been in the top five for the last four years. But with a dozen bodyguards, all cybered to a degree that made Adam cold just thinking about it, and used to working together, he’d be down, injured, within the first two minutes. And it was making him crazy!

He flicked a glance at the vid screen, watching it but not seeing anything. Images flashed past but Adam’s attention was on the door and on the runner beyond it. He got to his feet and paced back and forth as his internal chronometer ticked off the seconds. He flipped through a cyberware magazine and couldn’t even get excited at the pages of new tech.

Ten minutes. Twenty.

Still nothing from beyond the door. He checked his phone but there were no new messages, no phone calls, no emails. Nothing. He even went to the door and strained his hearing to try to catch something, anything from the other side but he couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat.

Reluctantly, he took a seat again, perching on the edge. The bad feeling hadn’t gotten any better but Adam forced himself to relax a fraction and count the seconds as they crawled past.

Eventually, the door opened and Nakamura stood there, his sterile gown splashed with spots of red. Adam was back on his feet in an instant and over by the door.

“You should come.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Adam asked, not letting the doctor have any time to answer.

Nakamura humphed and turned back into the room and Adam was already looking beyond him. The bed was empty and Adam frowned. He looked around the room and found Kris perched on what looked like a back-to-front dentist’s chair, stripped to the waist and looking smaller than usual. His hands were clenched tight, knuckles white and Adam could pick out the sheen of sweat running down Kris’ back under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. Adam was by his side in an instant and hunkering down in front of him.

Kris was pale but breathing evenly. Adam listened for a moment and his eyes widened. Kris was breathing evenly, too evenly and slower than he should. Adam counted ten breaths in that first minute and looked to the doctor who did nothing more than glare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Nakamura was brusque, brushing away the question as he laid out his tools. “Juniper has refused painkillers so will require your presence during the procedure. Make sure he does not move.”

Adam nodded and reached behind him to pull a small stool closer. He must have looked ridiculous, hunched up on the chair, his knees knocking the bottom of his chin, but he was focused solely on Kris. He took his hands and, with a little coaxing, got Kris to uncurl his fingers. Half moon cuts were etched into his palms and bleeding. Adam lent Kris his hands to grasp. Adam’s skin had a protective coating of armoured nanites and Kris couldn’t injure him. Kris opened his eyes and blinked up at him. There was a spark of recognition there and he clasped Adam’s hands tightly, eyes closing again.

Neat lines of fresh pink skin stood out against his pale flesh and Adam realised that Nakamura had replaced his secondary plugs already and set them to heal. That meant that he had his primary plugs, the ones on the back of his neck, left to do, and from what Adam had seen this morning, the operation was going to be anything but simple.

Nakamura looked over Kris’ shoulder and nodded once to Adam. Adam returned the nod and Nakamura picked up a scalpel.

“Deep breath, Juniper,” Nakamura warned and Adam felt Kris breathe in a little deeper, holding it as the knife dug into his skin.

Adam didn’t even flinch as Kris squeezed his hands. Adam rubbed his thumbs over Kris’ knuckles, whispering words of encouragement to him as Nakamura cut deeper. Tears squeezed through Kris’ lashes and Adam’s heart hurt.

“Tut tut,” Nakamura clicked his tongue and Adam looked up at the doctor, “You really should take better care of your primary interface unit, Juniper. This is going to be most difficult.”

“Shh, Jay,” Adam breathed, not daring to use Kris’ real name with the doc standing right there, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Scalpel, retractor, forceps, and Nakamura started to wrench the unit out of the back of Kris’ neck. Adam didn’t have a great angle but he could see dark marks on the casing.

“Almost there, Jay. You’re doing great.”

If it was anything else, Adam would say that they were scorch marks or electrical burns but that wasn’t possible, was it? How the fuck would you get marks like that on an internal unit? The scars on the back of Kris’ neck weren’t burns. No, they were more like blade scars and Adam would have guessed that it had been someone trying to dig out Kris’ plugs.

“One more tug, babe and the doc will have it out. You just have to hold on.”

Nakamura pulled, yanked harshly enough to wrench Kris up from the chair and the unit came free in a mess of wires and blood. Something was sprayed on the exposed wound and the bleeding stopped almost instantly.

“Just focus on me, babe. I’m right here for you.”

Nakamura dropped the unit on the table and Adam couldn’t take his eyes off it. More than the scorch marks, the unit was destroyed. Totally fucking useless. Deep scores marked one side of the unit, blades, definitely, and wielded by someone strong. There was a hole on the top, right in the centre and Adam bet that if he turned it over, there’d be a huge damned dent on the opposite side. It hadn’t gone all the way through, Adam knew that, otherwise Kris would be dead. But whoever had fucked it up hadn’t been kidding around. That was serious damage done by a serious person. He’d wondered earlier, but damn, this _had_ to be personal. _Had_ to be.

“Doc’s just getting the new plugs ready. Almost done.”

Adam forced his eyes away from the wrecked unit and looked at the doc again. He was unwrapping a brand new, shiny plug box. Didn’t take much to line it up and start to slot it into place. Kris squeezed his hands tightly and Adam had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out in pain. For a data runner, Kris was strong.

Adam wasn’t squeamish, but he always hated this part of the procedure. He’d had enough ‘ware installed that he knew that stretching feeling all too well. Didn’t matter if what the upgrade was the exact same dimensions as what it was replacing, it always felt so much bigger - wrong almost – and then it settled, but those first few minutes were uncomfortable. Maybe it was the fact that the guy operating on you had to shove his hands in there with whatever was being installed. Adam locked his muscles against the shiver he could feel rising through his spine and headed it off before it could transfer to Kris. He didn’t need Adam’s issues right now. He had enough of his own to deal with.

“Just getting it set right, babe. Hooking it up. Gonna be out of here soon. You okay, babe?”

Kris’ lips moved to form ‘yeah’ but there was no sound. There was a sick squelch as Nakamura pulled his hands out of the back of Kris’ neck and activated the unit. Wires snaked out, flapping in the air before finding their proper pathways. The doc waited until the indicator lights flashed green and then started sealing everything up again.

“Almost there. Almost there and then we can go home.”

Nakamura sprayed the area with NuSkinn and examined it for a minute before tapping Kris on the back, “No connections for at least 6 hours, you hear me?”

Kris gave a half nod and Nakamura sighed. Adam waited until Kris felt like moving, not saying a word. Slowly releasing Adam’s hand, Kris sat up and unclenched. He was in pain, Adam could see that in the line of every muscle but he was trying to hide it. Nakamura put a small box on the table next to Kris. Adam looked at them, reading the writing on the side. They were painkiller slap-patches, heavy doses too from what Adam could tell.

“I’m going to give you these, but if I know you, you won’t take them. Maybe your friend,” somehow Nakamura made that word sound dirty, “can persuade you better than I can.”

Adam slipped the box into his pocket and stood up, ready to help Kris up when he tried to get his feet under him. His first step or two were wobbly but that was just the new cyberware and Adam was there to help, an arm around his waist.

Kris looked up at Adam and his mouth opened once, twice, before he could force out the words, “Apartment.”

Adam nodded. He was almost to the door before he remembered that he had to pay. He propped Kris against the bed and turned to face the doc.

“How much?”

Nakamura tilted his head for a second and his eyes glazed over. Adam could see him working things out on his computer, the little lights in his iris’ flashing visibly even under the bright lights.

“Thirty thousand, one hundred and eighty four.”

Adam didn’t quibble, just tossed the doc a credchip. There was a little extra on it but Adam didn’t care. Tucking his arm around Kris’ waist again, he walked him out into the street. The bouncers didn’t even look at them as they stepped out and Adam didn’t look up at them either.

Looking at his bike, Adam cursed. He hadn’t even thought about how they were going to get home.

“Shit, I should have borrowed Firecracker’s car,” he kicked at the front wheel of the bike, thinking, “I’ll call a cab.”

Kris shook his head, “’s fine.”

Adam looked at him dubiously, but didn’t question it. He disengaged the security systems and kicked his leg over the bike. Kris slid on behind him and wrapped his arms around Adam, holding on tight. Adam started the bike and kicked off. For the entire journey home, Adam kept it under fifty. He checked on Kris constantly and he’d never been more relieved to pull into his apartment’s underground car park.

Kris appeared to be feeling a lot better physically by the time he got off the bike but he was still quiet, withdrawn and Adam wondered what was going on in his head.

There were hints, blinding neon signs that someone had really screwed Kris over. His reaction to mercs, the damage done, the deliberate nature of the attack... It was personal, that much was obvious. Taking out a runner’s plugs was like cutting off a limb or slashing their face open. It was deliberate and they knew what they were doing. Kris had gone on physical runs before and he was damned good at them, better than he should be given Juniper’s rep, but he’d stopped, categorically refusing to do anything more than produce mediocre code for midlevel jobs. If he had to guess, Adam would say that it was a run gone wrong, a double-cross, or just a particularly sadistic corporate security guard

Adam was close, he could feel it but the last puzzle piece was just out of reach.

Opening the door to the apartment, Adam let Kris enter first. He expected him to make for the bedroom straight away but he just hovered beside the couch.

“You should sleep,” Adam said quietly, but Kris shook his head.

Juniper blinked and looked up at him, "You're kidding? My neck is killing me and the nano-wires are giving me pins and needles," he twitched a little, "I'll be lucky if I sleep sometime tomorrow."

"So what do you want to do?” Adam frowned, “I've got cable. Doc said no jacking in until tomorrow..."

“Surprise me?” Kris answered dryly.

Adam thought for a second, watching Kris carefully. Every emotion played across his face, coupled with pain but _this_ was the least guarded he’d ever seen the runner. He had questions on top of questions and he needed answers. And ordinarily he’d wait and see what he could coax from Kris but there just wasn’t the time. So he did the only thing he could. He pushed. And prayed.

“Okay. Surprise you. Sure. I can do that.”

Adam led Kris down the corridor, past his room to the spare room, and pulled a security card from his wallet. Swiping the card on the lock, the door clicked open a fraction and Adam pushed it the rest of the way open. He reached inside and flipped on the light.

The spare room, or as Adam called it these days, ‘The War Room’, was covered in a tactical dissection of _Trojan_. Every inch of space was covered in printouts, files and memory keys. Adam stepped in and turned to face Kris, holding his arms out.

“You wanted a surprise. Here it is. This is it. Everything I could find, borrow, bribe or steal on _Trojan_ and _Nebula_. Rumours, facts, personnel files, profiles, everything. All my cards on the table,” Adam paused and looked at Kris, keeping his eyes on the runner, “I think it’s time you showed me your hand, don’t you?”


	16. Chapter 16

Kris froze. It was an obvious tell but blind panic locked his muscles for a crucial second. He tried to cover by looking up at the maps, noting the obsessive level of detail in passing. Silver- _Adam_ had really done his homework. He was aware of the sharp blue eyes tracking every change in his expression. "My hand...?"

There was still a chance that Adam hadn't put the pieces together. Kris felt his heart-rate climbing as he stared blindly at the maps. Adam sighed.

"Juniper is a passing average data runner," Kris' shoulders tensed and he could see the merc folding his arms in his peripheral vision. "He takes the little jobs, the low profile data runs, always keeping his head down but in there, there are flashes of brilliance."

"Juniper only stands out when he forget that he's not meant to." Kris tucked his arms across his chest. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. Adam kept talking, chipping away at Kris' brittle facade word by word. "That was how Minx spotted him, running code for something that should have been beyond him."

He sounded so cocky and Kris wished he'd fucking scrubbed those chat logs. "And yes, you're Juniper, but you're more. I've been on runs with some pretty mixed teams in my time, good and bad, and I know how to keep a job together. I don't have to do that with you. You know what you're doing. And it's not just natural instinct, so don't try that. You used to run. You used to be high profile - I can tell that much - but beyond that, I don't have a clue. Who are you?"

High profile. Christ, Adam had no idea. Kris turned away, deliberately breaking the flow of Adam's big reveal. He forced his tone casual. "Why don't you ask Firecracker if you're so sure about this?"

"The truth?" Adam's tone was harsh enough that Kris' hands closed into fists. "I don't want her caught up in whatever it is that you're running from. To dump your handle, to dump your reputation - that's serious. You haven't left any signs pointing back to whatever handle you used to run under. Firecracker would have picked something up if you had."

Adam's confidence in his fixer was touching but Kris hadn't missed the underlying message. He closed his eyes as Adam pushed on, "so it's serious and it's something that's still out there. You've done your research on me so you know that we don't have the usual Fixer/Merc relationship and I won't see her hurt or killed just to satisfy my curiosity."

He refused to register the spike of pain at the thought Adam was seriously blaming Kris for this? Anger sparked and Kris snapped back before he could think better of it. "Then it's really a pity you didn't think to be curious before you chased me down in the Gauntlet and pulled half the mercs in the city after you."

"You're a fantastic data runner, one of the best in the city from what I've seen, or maybe _the_ best," Adam answered like he hadn't just spent two minutes telling Kris how lucky he had been to find Kris. "Just for that, I would have been knocking on your door. I told you what this job means to me so you know where I stand. But I still have no clue why you decided to take this job."

There was no way Adam actually believed that? Kris laughed harshly. " _Decide_ is a strong word. Even if I hadn't agreed, it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for the data-runner you wanted for this job."

Adam looked confused. "I think you're putting too much faith in my rep."

"I'm not talking about your rep," Kris snapped. "I'm talking about your fixation on the job. You couldn't actually pull it off without a decent data-runner but you'd get close enough to scare them and they'd come looking for everyone you said hi to for months."

"Maybe," Adam said dubiously.

Kris gritted his teeth. "All this work on _Trojan_ and you never thought to look at _Nebula_ 's history?"

"I've got information on them," Adam waved at the wall behind him casually. "Very few runners have gotten close to _Nebula_. I think that in the entire history of the company, there's only been - what? - two successful runs. And one of those was back before they went global."

"Yeah?" Kris curled his lip in a parody of a smile. "Ever look at what made _Nebula_ 's rep?"

"No," Adam shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Do you know _anything_ about anti-corp data-runners?" Kris asked, tucking his arms tighter against his chest. He was getting angry and it was harder and harder to bite back the words he wanted to scream into the merc's face. How the hell did he not know this?

"A little." Adam was watching him closely and Kris struggled to keep his face impassive.

Kris took a deep breath. "Ever hear of DEx?"

Adam frowned, brows drawing down and eyes intent on Kris. "Yeah, name's familiar, but I haven't heard it for years. They used to be _the_ name in anti-corp data-running. You needed a corp thrashed for some reason, you posted up the request and hoped that they'd take an interest. I tried that but..."

Kris hadn't seen those messages. He hadn't looked at those boards for more than five years. Adam looked at the walls, glancing away from Kris and cleared his throat. He looked almost embarrassed at the admission. "But they're gone. Haven't been running for years. Rumor is that they got taken out by some big security corp years ago, left for dead at their decks."

Kris let the silence drag out, still hesitating on the very edge. It was all downhill from here. Adam was watching him, still and tense like a predator waiting to pounce. He wasn't going to let Kris slip past. He was going to keep pushing and Kris was rapidly running out of options. The only choice left was if he was going to wait until Adam pushed him over edge or jump. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

"That depends on your definition of 'taken out'," a bitter laugh escaped and Kris shook his head. "And 'big security corp'."

Another pause. Kris could actually see the revelation dawning on Silverfyre second by second. Adam stuttered, seeming honestly floored by the mere idea. "You're.... No way. You're too young. That had to be at least five years ago."

"All that background research and you never caught how old the Juniper persona was?" Kris can't keep the bite from his tone.

Adam paused again, eyes still wide and Kris bit back an unkind comment. He could practically see the wheels turning. Kris did genuinely want to know how much Adam knew. Juniper might still be salvageable, the rep was solid and he had clients who were always happy to farm boring coding jobs out to him.

"Everything Minx turned up put it at about four and a half, five years old..." Adam trailed off, eyes going wider. He looked like a country kid seeing the city sprawl for the first time and Kris smiled bitterly.

Kris folded his arms and leaned back against the _Nebula_ wall, waiting for Adam to work the timelines out with an arched eyebrow.

"That's not..." Adam was studying him, the lenses in his eyes recalibrating. Kris tipped his chin up defiantly. "You can't be... Fuck!" "

"We were kids," Kris conceded, looking blindly at the multi-layered blueprints over Adam's shoulder. The memories were still clear and sharp enough to cut him open. "Fucking _stupid_ kids who thought we could change the goddamn world."

"What happened?" Adam asked quietly. He shifted and his body language suggested just quiet expectancy. Kris looked back at the blueprints, pain thrumming through his tense shoulders. He bit his lower lip and sighed.

"We got too good, too fast and the corps started to put serious money on our heads. Even then we thought they'd never catch us. Root - crazy, crazy guy - used to hack the corporate expense accounts and leave a spider in the code. He used have one of the highest bounties," Kris shook his head, smiling briefly at the memory of Frankie, drunk out of his head and with a new tat, preaching the anti-corp manifesto at a rundown bar while Kris laughed and tried to get him off the table. "I bought him a drink when it hit 10 mil. We thought we were fucking invincible."

"You had the highest?" Adam's tone was too sure for that to be a genuine question. Bastard already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Kris rubbed his thumbs over his bandaged wrists, feeling the tingle of the healing tissue instead of the prickle of fraying wires and pushing harder. "It was coming up on fifty-sixty million last I checked."

"That means you're, you were..." Adam hesitated over the name like _Nebula_ 's goons were going to kick the door in if he let it slip.

"Hijack," Kris finished, lips curling. "Yeah. I used to be."

"Holy fucking..." Adam sat down hard, scattering the papers covering the bed. He stared at Kris like he'd just told Adam he was the President.

Kris held out his arms, flaunting the tattoos and the cheap mega-mall wardrobe. "Don't look like the corps #1 Most Wanted, do I?"

""No," Adam breathed softly.”No you don't."

"That was what protected us," Kris said, memory rushing back. They'd written loopholes and built free-floating data-fortresses and no-one had looked twice at the small pack of nerdy kids. They had laughed about that, Kris remembers with a bitter pang. "Everyone thought Hijack was some dinosaur who'd been coding since you used touch-screens. No-one was looking for a stupid kid who didn't know what the hell he was doing." His hand brushed the bandages covering the healing flesh on the back of his neck and Kris shook his head. "Almost no-one."

"You got double-crossed," Adam leaned forward, intent on Kris' every flicker of expression. It was like being on the wrong end of a microscope and Kris turned his face away. His past wasn't some jigsaw puzzle for Adam to pick at. "A merc, I'm guessing, on a run."

"I got _played_ by a merc," Kris snarled, spinning back to face Adam. "He was...huh, god's gift to confused hormonal geeks,"

He folded his arms so his wrists were tucked tightly against his chest. Choppah had been the American Dream; tall, blond with a merc's physique. He'd been everything Kris wasn't but half-dreamed of being. He'd made paper flowers of bar napkins for Kris and bought him coffee. He'd listened to Kris sing and told him that he should be shopping a demo. "I thought he'd hung the sun."

"Oh..." Adam was watching him closely, a carefully schooled neutral expression on his face.

"What can I say?" Kris hitched up his shoulder, smiling bitterly at the memories. "When you're a data-runner who hangs with mercs and fixers, you're not exactly the hottest thing on the menu. He was gorgeous, charming and I fell head over heels for him," He remembered walking home together, shoulders almost touching and the sincere, honest emotion in Choppah's eyes. Kris' expression twisted and he pushed away from the wall. "He must have thought of that reward every single night we went out. God knows _I_ didn't do it for him."

There was a moment where Adam looked torn, uncharacteristically indecisive, before he stood up. He kept his hands loose and empty, approaching Kris with the care of a policeman trying to talk a suicidal person off the edge of the high rise.

Kris twisted away from him, laughing harshly. "That's how stupid I was. I thought he liked me. Fuck, I thought he loved me! So when he called me for help on a run, I came running! Like a fucking dog too stupid to know any better," The words came faster, jumbling together and Kris was breathing harder, almost panting. "And yeah, there was a job; _Nebula_ wanted me as soon as he could get me there. Alive but anything else was a bonus. I didn't even see the knife until he'd torn my plugs." He bent his neck away from Adam, hiding the still-tender flesh and hugged his arms tighter. "And he stood there and he fucking told me how I'd been a stupid kid for letting him behind me and how I'd gift-wrapped myself for him. I couldn't even stand! I had to crawl into a corner while he talked about how he was going to fuck me because it wouldn't hurt the price and goddamnit but he deserved to get laid because I was God's own cocktease and he bet I'd be pretty when I _cried_!"

"Christ, Kris..." Adam's hand brushed his cheek and Kris jerked away. "Jesus... That's... Who was he? What was his handle?"

"What does it fucking matter?" Kris shouted. He could feel the sting of the tears and he reached out for the anger. He's cried more than Choppah ever deserved over this. His fingers dug into the fresh bandages and he felt the blood starting to trickle from around the newly seated plugs. "He was just the first merc to put two and two together and make a very lucrative bounty. _I_ fucked up! I nearly got my whole fucking team outed! I nearly got us all fucking _killed_!"

"You were what? Eighteen?" Adam had him backed into the corner, blocking him in with those long arms and Kris wanted to lash out, drive him back and run. He sucked in air as Adam continued inexorably. "You're not the only runner who almost got their team thrashed during a run. And you're not the only runner to get double-crossed, either. He was an asshole and he knew exactly what he was doing. You were outclassed back then. Everything I heard said that you were damned near unbeatable in the net, but on the ground, you're the same as the rest of us."

"Yeah," Kris laughed bitterly. "That's a lesson I don't need repeated. I barely made it to the Gauntlet before I passed out. The only thing mercs see when they look at me is a 'runner or a price-tag. Lesson fucking learnt."

Adam reached out again, fingers skimming down the line of Kris' neck. Kris froze in place, muscles trembling and Adam's voice was a whisper. "That's not all I see."

"Yeah," Kris' eyes cut to the blueprint again. He couldn't look at Adam and see the lie. He felt like he was made of crystal, one wrong step away from shattering. "Right."

Adam closed the distance between them and brushed Kris' cheek slowly. His lips brushed Kris' as he spoke. "Yeah. Right."

Kris shuddered, muscles spasming as his body short-circuited. He didn't - couldn't - look at Adam with his past bleeding out in tears and venom. He didn’t have any way to protect himself from Adam now. He couldn’t look into Adam's eyes and see a stranger reflected back. Christ, he's been a fool.

Adam leaned in until he filled Kris' personal space, warm and solid. Kris heard the faint whir of servo-motors and felt the steady beat of the merc's heart. Adam waited for endless seconds as Kris shivered and kept his eyes resolutely trained on the blueprints over Adam's shoulder.

Adam kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, slowly and deliberately. He kept his hands on the wall on either side of Kris, giving him just enough freedom to step back, to say no. Kris should, he should walk out that door and never look back but he's still the reckless fool he always was. He chewed at his lower lip, feeling his pulse thundering through his veins. He risked a glance up at Adam's face through his eyelashes. He found himself staring into serious blue eyes, instantly enthralled. Adam kept eye contact, even as he leaned in deliberately for another kiss, on the other corner of Kris' mouth.

Kris swallowed and turned his head to meet the kiss. Adam's hands moved to his hips and his weight pressed Kris back against the wall, anchoring and sheltering him. He deepened the kiss, fingers curling possessively against Kris' hipbone as Kris kissed him back and let his eyes close.

The next morning, Kris woke before Adam. He lay in bed, Adam's arm curled around his chest, half-curled fingers against Kris' heart, and tried to get back to sleep. He wasn't used to sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time and two full nights of sleep had him fully recharged and twitching with the need to _do_ something.

He gave up trying to get back to sleep after five frustrating minutes. He glanced at Adam who was still fast asleep. He'd worn Adam out with nightmares most of last night and he chewed guiltily at his lip. He couldn't wake Adam just because he was bored. That would be unfair. He couldn't cook breakfast or have a shower because he couldn't imagine Adam sleeping through the noise.

That left reviewing the information on the _Trojan_ job or staring at the ceiling until Adam woke up on his own. He still needed to call Cale about the parts for a new deck so Kris slipped out from under Adam's arm. Adam half-roused, pinning him to the bed and looking over his shoulder at the door, his free hand on the gun under his pillow.

"Sh," Kris said softly. "I'm just getting up to call Kickstand."

"Hmmmpfh" Adam said and settled back down to sleep. Kris shook his head and kissed Adam's cheek before worming his way back out of the bed.

His old deck was unusable - the bullet had gone through the processor and taken a huge chunk out of the motherboard. Kris separated out the memory discs and everything else he could salvage as he dialed Cale.

"Good morning, you've reached Kickstand. Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you in the face for ringing this early?"

"Morning, sunshine," Kris laughed.

"Hey," Cale's voice warmed immediately. "How are you?"

"Honest answer or the polite one?"

"We're always honest with each other, aren't we?" Cale's joke did nothing to hide the serious tone. "We can't all be tilting at windmills."

"Drew told you about the Fortress job," Kris sighed.

"Actually Firecracker did," Cale said, surprising Kris. "Then the scream-sheets did, then Momma did and _then_ Drew did."

"Ah," Kris started sorting through the papers still on the floor from last night. "Did he tell the rest?"

"Why don't you tell me and I'll let you know?" Cale said firmly.

"Fortress was a cake-walk," Kris said, choosing his words with care. Cale knew him too well to buy the smoke-screen. "We're both happy that we're ready for the big one. I need new deck components and Imighthavedonesomethingstupid."

"How stupid?" Cale demanded.

"I- Silverfyre and I-" Kris took a deep breath. "We fucked-"

"Fucked-fucked or fooled-around-fucked?" Cale asked.

"I'm not talking about _that_ with you!" Kris yelped.

"Ah, fooling around then," Cale said sagely. "Did you at least make it blowjobs?"

"Not that it's any of your damn business," Kris muttered. "But yes, we did."

"Did he push you into this?" Cale asked. "Did you-?"

"Okay," Kris' cheeks were about one degree from actually catching fire and he talked quickly over Cale's second question. "I know you aren't asking that. It wasn't-I didn't plan it but it happened and he's a good guy."

Cale hummed. "If you say so. Just remember-"

"Embrace my right to say no," Kris interrupted. "Yes, yes, I know. You can actually take the straight-supportive stereotype too far."

"And yet you still aren't telling me everything," Cale said pleasantly.

"I need components for a deck," Kris has the list half-written. "I've unlocked the accounts - don't use a public terminal that has a functional camera, okay?"

"And your grandmother needs to be taught to suck eggs," Cale snorted, voice turning serious as he continued. "Is that safe?"

"I've checked the flags they put on the account," Kris glanced down at the figures on his wrist comp.

"-from Silverfyre's apartment?" Cale asked.

"Of course," Kris was already tallying up the cost. "And can you put thirty K plus whatever a custom _Dorsett Gibson_ costs on a chip for me. I know it'll wipe that account but it should be fine."

"I'm not worried about the money," Cale cut him off. "But you used the data connection at Silverfyre's apartment? I know he's not a data-runner but isn't that a little risky?"

"No?" Kris drummed his fingers on the wrist-comp. "It's..."

Cale's silence stretched out until Kris broke. "I told him."

"You what?" If it had been Drew on the other end of the line, Kris knew he would be screaming but Cale just sounds moderately inconvenienced. There was still a rumbling undercurrent of disbelief. "You _told him_!?"

"It...came up," Kris sketched out the fragile framework of evidence and finished with a verbal shrug. "If he didn't trust me, we couldn't do the job."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Cale said thoughtfully.

"It would be," Kris answered immediately. "I'm sick of looking over my shoulder. I'm going to gut _Nebula_. They won't have enough to buy a cup of coffee by the time I'm through with them."

Cale laughed and Kris felt his own smile spreading across his face. Cale had laughed like that the first time Kris had hacked the Internation Trading Bank for rent money, the first time he brought one of the corps that had fucked them over before they were even born down in flames and the first time Kris had gotten drunk and needed to carried home, telling Cale how he was going to change the world.

"Welcome back, tiger."

Cale promised to have the components and the new motherboard as soon as his supplier came through and to drop the chip off at _Idolize_ some time that evening. He offered to pick up lube and Kris hung up on him, Cale's laughter echoing down the line.

Kris turned his attention to the salvaged components from his deck and set to work wiring the RAM into his wrist comp. It wasn't even as good as a fourth rate deck but Kris was getting twitchy. He hadn't gone more than eight hours without jacking in since he'd been working at Overloaded. Withdrawal was starting to set in and Kris flexed his hand

The skin around his plugs was pink but only blood-warm under his fingers. Nakamura had spent most of the first half of the surgery verbally eviscerating him for letting it get so out of hand. Kris was surrounded by mother-hens. The leads uncoiled from the recess and Kris shivered. It had made sense to upgrade to live-wires but they still creeped him out. Just watching the telescopic connectors as they slithered snake-like out of the port made Kris want to scratch them out with his nails.

Instead he pulled the plug from the wrist comp and reached up to unpick the gauze still covering his primary ports. His hand shook a little as he rubbed along the rim of the metal edge. The skin was still a little swollen and hyper-sensitive in the way all new skin was. Kris' breath shivered in his lungs and his mouth was dry.

There was nothing; no white-hot flare of pain or crippling spasms down along his spine. Just the solid mass of the port and the housing under the skin and muscle. Kris breathed in; swallowed carefully and peeled away the protective flap. Last time...last time he'd tried to plug into his primary ports, he'd seized. If Momma hadn't had his bio-monitor code, he probably would have died alone on the floor of a derelict apartment block and just been left there to rot.

He wasn't that person anymore. Kris' hand didn't shake when he picked up the plug and clicked it into place. He couldn't help the flinch at the echo of that click through his bones. Again, nothing happened. No pain, no warning tremors through the tense muscles in his neck. Before he could chicken out, Kris hit the power button for his wrist comp.

It wasn't like jacking-in from his deck; his vision dissolved into a million tiny points of light and he opened his ikon's eyes to look around. The shell of a system was a fragile bubble against the lights of the Net but the perception-algorithms were wonky. Everything was too sharply in focus and every few nano-seconds the virtual environment degaussed into billions of rippling lines of machine code.

The suite were slowly booting, rebuilding themselves from the backup and even they dissolved periodically when Kris tried to focus on them. He couldn't even get the menus on his ikon to display correctly. He reworked the code but it didn't help. If anything, the periodic dissolve got more frequent. Kris couldn't figure it out: the code was running fine, the connection lights were green across the board when he could see the menu.

Draghos' dialog box flashed up, taking up Kris' entire visual field. It meant the security program was using the hard-code interrupt. "`NEW HARDWARE PROFILE IS INCOMPATIBLE WITH CURRENT EXTERNAL HARDWARE.`"

It couldn't be that simple. Kris killed the connection and opened his eyes. The real world looked dusty and out-of-focus. It took a minute before his vision adjusted back and he could read the display on the wrist comp. The diagnostics looked fine. Green-lights all the way down; until he hit the 'derived diagnostics' part. The relative processor speeds were bright red lines in a sea of green.

He'd never seen an error like that before. Kris read the detailed read-out, frowning over the figures and double-checking every step. His new cyberware was simply too fast for the wrist comp to keep up. The specifications didn't make sense; according to the manuals that Nakamura had sent back with him, Kris' primary plugs were running at 115% efficiency. Kris checked the list of cyberware but there was nothing non-standard on the neat invoice.

His new plugs were top of the range, courtesy of some shady dealing by Cale and Drew, but they weren't customized. Nakamura had left one note, scribbled in the margin of the invoice in the kanji pidgin that he'd used back when he was a nobody called Shinobi about Kris' old plugs and the test result from his preliminary exam. Even Kris' old plugs shouldn't have been working even as well as they had been.

"Elasticity of the neural tissue," Nakamura had written. Kris' new primary plugs were just working the way they were supposed to. If that was true for all his plugs...? Kris checked the specs on the secondary plugs again and yeah, he should be able to jack in with those until Cale had sourced the parts for his new deck.

He strapped the wrist comp back on and activated his secondary plugs. The connector wire slid out, clicking into the wrist comp and Kris felt the instinctive shiver just as the real world fell away. The 'Net was still sharper and clear than he was used to but the underlying ripples of light were still there. The suite were waiting, crowding around to inspect him.

"You have upgraded," Virago said, sounding impressed. "Your hardware profile must be updated."

"You have reactivated your primary interface points," Chronos agreed. "You intend to upgrade your external hardware?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking-" Kris yelped as Nox thumped him solidly in the solar plexus. Kris' ikon pixelated and reformed. The blue/gold lines of his ikon blinked and a secondary pattern, jagged in red and brassy gold formed underneath. Kris stared down at his hands. He hadn't seen _that_ code for a long time.

"You were using the wrong ikon," Nox said and he never sounded so much like Daniel as he did when he talked like that. Kris hadn't seen his little brother for years and he wondered idly if Daniel still scrunched up his nose like that. "Juniper is a shell persona. You are not - have never _been_ \- Juniper."

"`AGREED,`" Draghos' dialog box popped up. "`USER_IDENT: CONFIRMED.  
UNLOCKING USER PERMISSIONS FOR _HIJACK [ADMIN]_.  
USER PREFERENCES PROPAGATING....DONE.  
USER ACCESS UNLOCKING...DONE.  
RENAMING PROFILE 'JUNIPER' TO 'JUNIPER[SHELL]'....DONE.  
IKON PRIVACY SETTINGS UPDATING...DONE.  
LOGIN COMPLETE.`"

 _The change that rippled through the security programs was subtle. They stood a little straighter, the protective armor coding getting denser and the predatory focus coming back into their eyes. Kris looked around at them and smiled. "All right, here's what I want you to do..."_

 _There was a lot of work to do. Kris set Nox to start seriously scouting _Nebula_ 's network set up. Draghos and Virago were checking the data Silverfyre had gathered and Chronos was trawling the forums with instructions to report back on any whispers about someone planning to try and take the job._

Kris spent the time learning his new limits. He'd need at least a day to adjust to the new deck but the clear, sharp data-flow was addictive and he was itching to test what he could do. Kris cracked the SDPD fortress, writing over the numerous traffic tickets logged against Silverfyre and Cale. He set a worm in the database that would erase any new tickets before they could be logged. He hacked the four banks where he still had open accounts and stripped out the _Nebula_ tracking bots, setting them on the expense accounts for a P-MC company based out of the South.

He was just kicking around online, sorting through the data that the suite were starting to return, when he felt the lightest of pressure against his lips. The Net dimmed and faded and Kris opened his eyes to find Silverfyre bent over him, kissing Kris lightly but insistently.

Adam smiled as Kris tipped his head back into the kiss. "Hey babe," Another kiss and Kris felt the curl of heat. He was suddenly very glad to be sitting down. "I thought you were gonna stay asleep on your deck all morning. How're the plugs working out?"

"I actually haven't gotten to test the primaries," Kris admitted, rubbing his wrist as the wire retracted. "But, they're a serious upgrade."

"Well, that's good, right?" Adam smiled down at him, leaning along the back of Kris' chair. "How serious are we talking?"

"I can't use the primary plugs because the wrist comp doesn't have the processing power to handle it. I even can't run the perception algorithms without overloading what the comp can take." Kris smiled, still floored by the difference and trying to think of an analogy that Adam would understand. "It's like having a new gun with the wrong ammunition."

"Ouch," Adam moved to sit on the bed, sprawling out with a feline grace that made Kris' mind go careening off the tracks. He wasn't wearing pants and Kris couldn't tear his eyes away from long, freckled legs and the surprisingly filthy images that flooded his mind. "You manage to get hold of Kickstand? Is he going to sort it out?

"He'll be around the club tonight,” Kris said blankly, trying to think of anything but how Adam's skin had felt under his hands. "He's hoping to have some of the components by then. Do you have a show tonight?"

"I'm helping the guys set up the stage, but I'm not planning on singing," Adam said dismissively, leaning up an elbow. "So, your friend... He seems to like _Idolize_."

"Pity," Kris would really have liked a chance to try groupie-sex. His libido was waking with a vengeance and Kris focused on the topic of Cale. "He does and he likes Firecracker so...."

Adam looked thoughtful. "Kickstand, he's a good friend of yours, yeah?"

"He's my brother, pretty much." Kris rubbed at his neck. He hadn't thought Adam had noticed Cale and Allison getting so close. "Kinda like you and Firecracker are."

"Good guy?" Adam said intently.

"The best," Kris said honestly.

"Okay. I guess I won't shoot him then," Adam was smiling, obviously joking. Kris really, really _hoped_ he was joking. "But I'm gonna have a talk to him later."

"You realize he's going to want to have that talk right back at you, right?" Kris started absently making notes on the pages scattered across the room.

Adam looked lost momentarily, then he blanched. "Oh. Oh..."

Kris looked away to hide his smile. "He's not actually that much older than me but he believes the extra height qualifies him to be my big brother."

"Yeah, I can see how that'd work," Adam nodded like it was Kris' fault that he'd been born in a world of cyber-enhanced giants. He was distracted just long enough for Adam to come up behind him, crowding close enough that Kris could feel the heat through his flimsy t-shirt. "What are you writing?"

"Updating the information you've got," Kris said, struggling to keep from canting his hips back. He was a professional and he could keep from objectifying his partner long enough to explain the scheduling changes. "You can see there's been some changes made."

"Yeah, I heard that," Adam nodded. "I was due to get an update from one of my contacts today, but if you got the information, then that's good. I'll double check it with them later, see if there's anything else we need to know."

"Also," Kris said, looking down at the final report from Draghos about the forums and Net-chatter. "There are two teams attempting the run that actually look like they're serious about it."

Adam reached for the coffee Kris hadn't even noticed and passed one over to Kris. "You got names?"

He spoke like there was no doubt Kris _had_ the names. Kris tapped the display settings, flashing up the holographic records of the teams he'd found. "There's one team with a guy called Spartacus. He's ex-mil and the runner's a code jockey." Kris brought up the mugshots - itself a blackmark against the runner. _Real_ runners never got close enough to job to be pulled in for questioning. "The other team...they're a little more serious about it. Woman called Baneful and her team plus a runner called Axis."

Adam passed a cup to Kris, studying the mugshots. Baneful was a haughty woman with peroxide blonde hair. Adam looked at her and shook his head. "Baneful is good. She'll put some serious work into it. Spartacus thinks with his guns. He's going to be trouble."

"He'll get past the gates but he's going in two days," Kris said, checking the notes. "No way he's got the prep done to get much further. Baneful's team are going to hit them a couple of days later after the panic calms down. They'll get close enough that _Trojan_ will shake things up. If we want to do anything, we need to hit _Trojan_ before they do."

Adam pulled out a mall-bought tablet pc and tapped away for a minute. Kris' suite flagged a log-in to the Iron Circle, a merc-only online community site. Kris took in the information with a glance and filed it away. He'd already known Silverfyre was one of the top mercs in the city. "Spartacus isn't smart. He's small arms mostly, which means that he's going to have to scale up if he wants to run against _Trojan_. He's gonna be nervous."

Adam logged out and the suite copied off the relevant information before returning to stand-by. "This could be bad. _Trojan_ are going to up their security afterwards, especially if they manage to capture Spartacus. He's not exactly good about keeping secrets. And if they know about the job..."

Kris cleared his throat as Adam trailed off before asking dryly. "You really think they don't know already? If they had that government contract safely signed, they'd already be hitting the companies that put up the money."

"They know," Adam acknowledged. "I'm not that naive. But _Trojan_ 's betting on their rep and the fact that they're backed up by _Nebula_ and crossing their fingers that no one is going to take the run. Worse than that, they know that once someone breaks the cherry on the job, they're going to have every two-bit runner in the city crawling out from under their rocks and trying their luck."

"Two options then," Kris hesitated. "We either hit them before Spartacus or..."

Adam's grin was vicious and in no way detracted from the fierce sexuality he radiated. Kris looked back at the holographic display as he wrestled his libido back down. "Or we use them as cover! I like the way you think."

"The plan he's looking to run gives us a window," Kris plugged into his wrist comp, killing the holographic display and transmitting the display to Adam's tablet. "About twelve hours after he starts the run. If we hit them then, they're going to be as flat-footed as they get."

Adam blinked at his tablet, but didn't say anything about having his tablet hijacked. "Where'd you get this?"

Kris shrugged. "Spartacus' data-runner's firewall is straight out of the box. Nothing we can't handle."

Adam flipped through the plan, looking disgusted as he worked out the details. "Yeah, looks like you're right. Twelve hours... This plan is _full_ of holes. A blind dog could come up with a better plan than this."

"Hey, you wanna run with him instead..." Kris smirked. "I'll get out of your way."

"No thanks. I already got all the team I need," Adam smiled at Kris who struggled to hide the flush rising in his cheeks. "Nah, it's just... I want to fix his plan, you know? I mean, even his map is wrong. That's the plan from before they redid the gates and guard posts!"

"You're really OCD about this kinda thing," Kris switched off his wrist comp."Anything you need specifically before you start your preparations?"

Adam pouted and Kris tried hard not to stare at his lips. "It's just professional pride. I've got a few calls to make, but I think I'm good. Anything you need?"

"I think my armor needs a new lining," Kris had looked at it before they'd left for Nakamura's and there were a couple of knife holes in the lining he hadn't noticed. "How much is it likely to cost?"

"Depends how bad it is," Adam said. "Usually it's about a grand for a full relining. Maybe another five hundred if the leather itself is damaged and Drey needs to spray it with repairbots."

"Cool, I can cover that." Kris hesitated for a second before asking shyly. "Any chance I could bum a lift?"

"Sure," Adam bounced to his feet and Kris' eyes flicked down. The soft fabric of Adam's shorts pulled tight in interesting places as he stood and Kris' mouth went dry. "Just let me grab pants."

He kissed Kris, coaxing him up so Kris was leaning against the hard muscles of his chest as Adam stole his breath. Adam pulled away and Kris' head was spinning. He wasn't going to be able to put his own jeans on and the old pair of boxers he was wearing weren't exactly hiding anything. Adam was already at the door as Kris panted for air and wondered if he could take another shower. Adam looked back over his shoulder, eyes wicked.

"You coming?"

"Boy, I hope so," Kris blurted out. His brain kicked in a second too late and Kris felt the fiery blush igniting. Adam laughed, rich with satisfaction and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Kris’ boxers and tugged him closer.

"Oh, honey, I think we can manage that." Adam breathed against his lips.

Kris went through the entire refitting of his armor in a post-coital daze. There was a giant Viking who, barring his well-tailored suit, looked to be the text-book definition of cyber-psychotic. He stayed behind the counter and growled at Adam who kept himself between Kris and the Viking and a hand on Kris' shoulder or back.

That made the Viking, Gee, then. The suite pinged a truly terrifying assortment of Gibson's known cyber-enhancements and noted that, unlike Silverfyre, Gibson was not scrupulous about taking the drugs that off-set the worst of the side-effects. Kris edged past the man, feeling like he was tip-toeing over a land-mine. Andre smirked a lot as he checked the fit of Kris' new lining and his eyebrows shot up when Adam invited himself into the fitting room to stare at Kris' bare chest with hot eyes.

Kris had blushed and Andre had kissed his cheek but he didn't actually say anything. Kris was grateful; being constantly aware of where Adam was and when Adam turned dark eyes on him. Kris' heart rate was hitting the amber range and the suite were alerting him every few minutes. He couldn't focus when Adam was too close and there was nothing to focus on instead.

Adam whisked him back to the apartment after Kris' armor had been repaired and they spent the afternoon working through the mountains of information. Kris felt like a teenager, all confused emotions and daring touches whenever Adam casually annexed his personal space or pulled Kris down into his lap to look over papers with his chin resting on Kris' shoulder and his breath gusting over Kris' collarbone, raising goosebumps.

Cale was in _Idolize_ by six with a rucksack of bubble-wrapped components and keys to Allison's office. "I talked to Firecracker and she said you could use the office to put it together. She was running a little late."

"Awesome!" Kris nearly kissed Cale but Adam's arm around his waist kept him in his seat long enough for the impulse to pass. He did hug Cale tight before Adam kissed him lightly on the cheek and said something about giving the guys a hand. Kris leaned back too slow to kiss back and Adam vanished into the press of the crowd.

"Hey," Cale waited until Kris looked back before he held up the dull black credchip. "You want to give him this?"

"You mind passing it on?" Kris said after a moment's pause. Cale's glance was measuring but he nodded, standing up to look over the heads of the crowd. Kris went behind the bar, into the office, to gloat over his new components. There were four of everything, proof that Cale remembered enough of Kris' quixotic taste in decks to cover his bases. He pulls up the specs of each of the components, running the combinations and mods available from every configuration.

He had missed this, the simple joy of creating and the deck that slowly emerged was slim, sleek and generations beyond the standard decks the other runners would be using on the job. He triple-checked the relative processor speed and tested it with his primary plugs before he screwed the case into place. Cale had even got him some armor plating and Kris locked them in place over the processor and plug jacks. The deck was the size of a notebook, narrow and the armor plates had a delicate filigree pattern of silver flames. Kris was going to _kill_ Cale.

The deck was downloading the operating system and the programs Kris had earmarked from DEx's main data-fortress for the job when the office door opened. Firecracker looked like she hadn't slept much the night before and was snarling into her phone as she tossed her bag onto the chair. "-don't care. You've had three days. If you're not in tomorrow night, you can look for another job."

Kris kept a protective hand on his deck, trying not to listen in. The deck needed another three minutes physically wired in to finish downloading before the data-fortress' security protocols would cycle and he'd have to reset everything. He really needed those three minutes.

"Don't try me on this Carlos. Tomorrow, or else," Firecracker's voice was rough and she raked her fingers through her hair after banging down the phone. The fiery orange polish on her nails was chipped and her makeup wasn't as perfect as Kris was used to.

"Trouble?"

"No, no trouble," Firecracker sighed. "Just a hazard of the job - dealing with idiots."

"Ah," Kris drummed his fingers on the armor plate, watching the progress bar. "That I can't help with."

Firecracker looked over at the deck and her eyes lingered on Kris' new deck. "That for the run?"

"Yeah," Kris traced the detail on the armor plate. The job was still a half-finished checklist and wishful thinking but it was starting to come together. "We're nearly ready."

Firecracker collapsed heavily into the chair, staring at her hands. "Too late to try to talk either of you out of it, I guess?"

"Yeah. Sorry," Kris darted a glance at her. He was still wary of over-stepping. This was Adam's little sister; the one he cared more about than anything else and, his wholly irrational spike of jealousy aside, Kris wasn't going to risk telling her anything Adam didn't want her to know. "It's going to be...soon."

"You can't tell me when," Firecracker laughed but it was a despairing mockery of humor. She turned to look at Kris with eyes that should have belonged to a woman seventy years older. He looked away. "I get that."

"That's for Adam to tell you," Kris said, hiding behind the apologetic tone and silently praying for her not to ask. His calm was still fragile and the seething storm of emotion that Adam had set off still boiled just under the surface. He was already tensing up, already defensive and he couldn't risk losing his temper. He'd given up enough of his past to Adam. It wasn't Firecracker's business and Kris heard her words from the day before on a loop in the back of his head. ' _The fact that he looks good in armor isn't good enough reason to let him plan a raid._ '

"Paranoid?" Firecracker snorted. "Yeah, I'm used to it. You guys ready?"

"Yeah," Kris said and he meant to leave it there. Really, he did. "Your reservations about my ability aside, we're ready for this."

"'Fyre trusts you," Firecracker dismissed the barb with a wave of her hand. "That's good enough for me."

Kris offered her the brightest fake smile he could manage, mentally chanting ' _bullshit_ '. If it was good enough for her, she wouldn't be taking every opportunity to poke at him like she was the keeper of Adam's common sense. He glanced down at the progress bar which was slowly ticking down the last five percent. He wanted out of this conversation before he said something _really_ unforgiving.

"Sorry," Firecracker reached out to grasp his arm and Kris fought the urge to pull away. "It's just this job. I'll be happier when it's over. I just can't stop thinking that this is a bad idea. It's too damned dangerous. I lost one brother to running, I can't lose another."

Kris deflated, feeling the righteous anger drain away. Firecracker was wan, hair tangled and disheveled. Adam was her brother, the only family she had and Kris couldn't blame her for being anxious. He had no idea what the right words were here; he was a lot better with code than he was ever going to be with people. Finally he said, "He's good. Best in the city."

"That's what he said about you," Firecracker said wryly. "But it's just... It's _Trojan_ and it's _Nebula_. This isn't small stuff."

She had no idea how right she was; _Nebula_ was possibly the most vindictive corp on the planet. Cale had told him first-hand stories about what happened to the apartments and motels that Kris and the rest of DEx had used as living space that sounded like the craziest sort of urban legends. "What do you want me to say? Running is a risk."

“I know," Firecracker snapped, her voice bitter. "Look, Juniper, I know you don't owe me any favors but I know how these runs go. Watch out for him, okay? Bring him home? Keep him safe?"

The progress bar was full. Kris could just walk out the door. It would be the sensible thing to do. Instead he stared down at the deck. Firecracker's nails bit into the tender part of his forearm. Kris sighed. "All right. I promise."

"Thank you," Firecracker's voice wobbled and Kris pulled the connecter out of his new deck with more force than necessary. He concentrated on keeping his expression empty but the office was suffocating and Kris couldn't stay here and listen to her thanking him.

"Forget it," he advised her. Making a promise wasn't the same thing as being able to keep it. He stuffed the new deck in his bag as he left the office. He nearly tripped over his own feet getting out before she could say anything else.

He thought about that promise, sitting at the bar with Cale, watching his best friend flirt and chat with Trace and the rest of the staff. He watched Adam on stage - rewarding the crowd for putting up with the 'tone-deaf punk poser' that was supposed to be the headline act - and thought that Adam should go into music when this was over. The crowd adored him and Adam was alive on stage in a way he wasn't anywhere else.

Sitting there, Kris had a moment of gut-wrenching loneliness. He was a ghost, trapped and forgotten, as he looked around at the vibrant, brilliant people that filled the bar. None of them knew who he was. None of them cared. He had two friends left in the world and both of them had lives beyond him that wouldn't change if he disappeared. Adam, beautiful sensual Adam, was already forgetting Kris as the seconds counted down to the payout.

Kris was literally the ghost in the machine, a relic of legacy code waiting to be overwritten. He looked at Adam, drawing his audience in like moths to a flame and then at where Cale and Firecracker had their heads bent together, laughing and halfway to love. Kris was the only part that didn't fit; the program with just one last iteration to run and he drained his glass. The storm had blown itself out, Kris' mind unfolded in narrow lines of probability and patterns. He breathed out the anger, like Sensei Ryan had taught him and started to think.

"I need to break in the new deck," Kris told Adam later when he talked about picking up supplies, offering a lopsided smile. "It'll be boring as hell. Go get what you need."

He logged in before Adam had even left the apartment. The suite were waiting, buffers filled with the latest intel but Kris watched Adam leaving through the pop-up vid-feed from the building security. When Adam's bike disappeared into the early morning traffic, Kris turned back to the suite.

"Draghos," a sweep of his ikon's hand brought up the master security program's console and Kris scanned the outline of the plan. "Incorporate a second primary objective. Assure Silverfyre's survival."

Draghos' patterns flared red. His dialog box was larger than normal, the text bolded. "`CURRRENT STRATEGY: ODDS OF PRIMARY USER SURVIVAL == 67%. PROJECTED STRATEGY WITH SECOND PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: ODDS OF PRIMARY USER SURVIVAL == 21%`"

Nox and Chronos protested but Virago watched Kris' expression and kept her mouth shut. Kris let them argue for two minutes. Then he tapped the console display, integrating the second objective and watching change propagate across the suite. "Do it."

Revising the plan took most of the time Adam was gone. Kris actually had very little left to do; all the programs he intended to use were upgraded and could be brought online with the deck in milliseconds. He was studying the ramifications of the processor speed differential from earlier and the possible uses of an overclocked neural interface when an alert highlighted in red popped up.

Spartacus was starting his run.

Kris activated three monitoring programs to track Spartacus' progress and update the plan depending on which of the probable routes he tried to take. Then he sent all the other programs onto standby and logged off. He jacked out and sat up, looking around at the walls papered with data-sheets and personnel records.

He was tired, the clearheaded sort of tired that made everything clearer and sharp-edged. He looked around the empty apartment. The suite's display on his wrist comp automatically updated, notifying him that Adam was fifteen minutes away and his route suggested he was on his way straight back.

Kris looked at the display, then very deliberately unsnapped the wrist comp. He took his phone out as he went into the bathroom and dialed Cale.

"It's starting," Kris said over Cale's sleepy 'Good morning' and there's a long pause.

"Shit," Cale sounded more awake.

"The Internation account is in your name," Kris said, swallowing as he pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the bathroom cabinet. "PIN's the zip-code back home. There should be at least three million and it'll all look legit. Your ID's in the safety deposit box with the paperwork for Drew's new health insurance policy."

"Kris-" Cale tried to interrupt but Kris kept going on.

"If I'm not in touch in twenty four hours-" he swallowed again. "Just get the hell out. Don't look back."

Cale's answer was a groan and Kris bit his lip, praying quietly. Cale's harsh intake of breath rattled in his ear. "Don't do anything stupid."

Kris hung up, tossing the phone onto the counter and closed his eyes. When he finally looked up, his eyes were glossy-bright and Kris rubbed his eyes. He'd done everything he could. The monitoring programs would relay every step Spartacus took. The suite were running on stand-by, ready to activate when he needed them. His armor and the handgun Adam had insisted he have were neatly stacked beside his bag.

Kris searched the cabinet, finding the lube but no condoms, however hard he looked.

"Fuck it."

When Adam came in nearly five minutes later, Kris was sitting on the bed with his hands between his knees. He had stripped down to his boxers and only left the bedside lamp on. The blue-green glow from Kris' dragon tattoo was the only other light source.

"Kris?"

"Spartacus started his run," Kris said. He was proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver. "We've got twelve hours before we need to start the run."

Adam shrugged out of the armored jacket, eyes never leaving Kris. Kris watched him, openly staring at the flash of skin where his t-shirt rucked up. Adam's hands dropped to his belt, long fingers working the buckle open. Neither of them spoke or looked away as Adam crossed the floor, leaving his clothes scattered behind him, until he was towering over Kris.

The urge to flinch back or hunch his shoulders was still there but Kris was past being afraid. He looked up into Adam's eyes and reached out to tuck the bottle of lube into Adam's hand. Adam looked down then up at Kris' face. There was heat in his eyes but he searched Kris' face and Kris swallowed.

"I want you to fuck me," Kris said, every word deliberate. Adam's pupils blew wide; black engulfing the blue and Kris shivered at the heated gaze that raked him from head to toe. When Adam moved to kiss him, Kris tipped his head up to meet him.

He was expecting it to be hard and fast. He was expecting it to _hurt_ but Adam pressed him back onto the bed. Adam was already stripping off his boxers, manhandling Kris like he weighed nothing, mouth hot and wet against Kris' collarbone. He was impossibly huge, hands everywhere and eyes fixed on Kris' face as he explored just how fast he could drive Kris out of his mind.

Adam worked him open with wincing care, kissing Kris until he was pliable and open as he slid slick fingers deep. Kris was half out of his mind, panting into the gasping, greedy kisses and fingers cramped around the hard muscles of Adam's upper arm. He could feel the flex as Adam's wicked clever fingers sent sparks dancing in front of his eyes. Adam breathed endearments, praising Kris and coaxing him closer and Kris hoarded every word, every flicker of sensation.

Kris had thought he was ready for the feel of Adam pushing inside him but it was shocking to feel the insistent pressure and Kris tossed his head back, feeling Adam's teeth against his neck as he gasps. He felt torn open, invaded and Adam's ceaseless encouragement and breathless curses made him shiver. Adam fucked him with the meticulous attention to detail and reckless enthusiasm he brought to every aspect of his work and Kris was thrashing and cursing under him as Adam fucked him relentlessly, stealing butterfly kisses and whispering praise and filthy promises in his ear as Kris struggled to breathe.

When he finally came, it was an explosion of feeling and _release_ that blew away the world and left him sprawled and boneless under Adam. Kris actually blacked out from the sheer force of it.

Adam kissed him awake some hazy length of time later and all but carried him to the shower. Kris ached, a dull throb that echoed his sluggish heart-beat but he felt relaxed, alert as the hot water cleared the fog from his mind. Adam followed him into the shower, kissing and helping Kris wash before leaving him to towel off. Kris's armor was waiting, neatly folded on the counter.

Kris dressed, automatically checking his plugs and blushed when his fingers grazed a bruise left by Adam's hands or teeth. He came out of the bathroom to find Adam - _Silverfyre_ \- fully dressed, stowing the last of his weapons. The merc looked at him with a dare-devil smile that bared his teeth.

"Ready to rock and roll?"

Kris picked up his battered bag and took one last look around the apartment. There were still a few pairs of cheap jeans in their plastic bag and some t-shirts scattered around. Otherwise there was no evidence that Kris had ever been there. He squared his shoulders. "Yeah. Ready when you are."

The _Trojan_ facility was still half-built, iron bones rising out of the sterile white and glass walls of the offices and scaffolds around the main hub. Silverfyre pulled up half a block from the small side gate that they'd picked as the best access point. The surveillance cameras shut off as the bike came to a stop. Silverfyre dismounted, looking sharply around before turning back to face Kris. He leaned in to kiss Kris, possessive and fierce or so Kris let himself believe until he felt Silverfyre's fingers against the curve of his ear, nudging Kris' earpiece into place. He smiled bitterly to himself as Silverfyre stepped back, eyes flickering around the alley.

Silverfyre looked up at the emerging hulk of the main building then back at Kris. Kris shivered at the cold hunger in the merc's blue eyes. He had to shake off a visceral reaction; Choppah had looked like that, right before he put a switch-blade into Kris' primary plugs.

Silverfyre went first, his guns out and hunched over a little as he ran. Kris followed along behind, hovering just behind until Silverfyre waved him up. The circuit on the gate was already fried by the time they got there – a sign that Spartacus were already in the compound. As if that wasn’t enough of a clue, there were two bodies in hut. Kris tried not to look at the pool of blood that covered the floor but he couldn’t help it. Silverfyre frowned at him and asked if he was okay without ever saying a word and Kris nodded. He followed Silverfyre through the gate, pausing only when Silverfyre told him to. Two silenced shots later and they were moving again, down the corridor beyond and into the building. Kris kept his eyes on the display filtering through his battered goggles, two steps behind Silverfyre. He didn't look at the security guards that Silverfyre put down as they made their way into the main building and then up to a small office with 'VP Assistant (Logistics)' on the door. Kris picked the lock, aware of Silverfyre's tense alertness at his shoulder and they ducked inside.

Kris pulled out his deck and cut the cable to the terminal on the desk. He spliced the wire into the correct port on his deck and looked up at Silverfyre. "Red button's the EUMI . Hit that and you'll dump me out. Just don't expect me to be in my right mind for at least a minute after."

Without waiting to hear Silverfyre's answer, he clicked plug in place and dropped straight into the system.

 _Nebula_ 's Vortex was the most advanced AI-based data security system in the market. It was light-years ahead of anything Fortress used and a quantum leap from the City Hall database. Kris dropped into a distorted, rapidly changing landscape with the suite booting alongside him.

The Vortex was a fully immersive system, populated with huge complex security programs that changed appearance with the rest of the environment. Kris had to use half the flash memory available just to keep up with the shifts. Gravity spun in a corkscrew as Kris raced through the different levels, ducking past the security.

He was always being watched, always one slip from disaster. The suite infected all the security programs they could but more were booted every second. The whole system was a death-trap, modeled from the psychotic dreams of a madman. Kris couldn't take a second to plan ahead, couldn't stop moving without feeling the buzz of attention starting to settle on his ikon.

If his ikon had been a full-skin model, Kris would have been sweating. He ripped through the system, the suite steering him through the complex topography and snatching the information they needed in pico-second bursts from secure servers. Time dragged out as Kris worked to leech the information without setting off the rigorous checks and security traps that filled the system.

As Nox snatched the last few packets, Kris reached out to add it to the data and-

-Kris slammed back into his meat body so hard that he honestly thought he'd broken his back. Silverfyre had a hand fisted in his collar and was dragging Kris bodily towards the door.

His deck went crashing to the floor and Silverfyre snatched it up, shoving it into Kris' arms as he hauled him out of the door. Then they were running. Kris, head still spinning, blundered into walls and doors. He just needed a second, just a second to stand and get his bearings.

"Run," Adam half-shouted in his ear and Kris ran. He ran without questioning. He ran with one hand on the wall to keep him upright. He ran until he realized that Silverfyre wasn't behind him. He wasn't even in the main building anymore. There were scaffold poles and plastic-wrapped network switches. There was no sign of Silverfyre.

Kris shook his head, staggering sideways as the world spun around him. He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes and waited to the sickly imbalance to pass. He was alone. Silverfyre had been behind him. He was in the part of the complex that was under construction.

He'd gotten out.

Silverfyre hadn't.

A sinking feeling settled in his gut. He fumbled for his deck which still had a length of network cable trailing from the ruined port. Kris' fingers flew over the buttons, blending code and theory. This was crazy, insane. Running against the Vortex across a wireless connection was statistically suicide. But Nakamura had believed that Kris could overclock his plugs; had believed that Kris' brain had rewired itself for greater efficiency.

It was still suicide. Kris wasn't that hopeful. He'd have minutes, if that but a good data-runner didn't need much time to do a lot of damage. Not if they knew what they were doing. The plug at the base of his neck felt bruised and the connection tingled as he clicked the wire into place.

Draghos was waiting for him, alone. His dialog box was empty and he looked down at Kris' ikon. The security program was pixelating at the edges, fighting the compulsion of the objectives. Kris thought of Adam, how he'd looked on stage and the feel of his hands on Kris' skin and looked up at Draghos. The draconic ikon dimmed and his dialog box began to fill with commands.

"`REDIRECTING PROCESSOR PRIORITY TO NETWORK PROTOCOLS....DONE  
TERMINATING SAFETY OVERRIDE PROCESSES...DONE  
GRANTING USER ACCESS TO HARDWARE COMMAND CODE...DONE  
ESTABLISHING NETWORK CONNECTION TO [VORTEX3~neB]....DONE  
TERMINATING SECURITY PROGRAM PROCESSES...DONE`"

Draghos flickered and vanished. Kris, alone in the thin glass shell of his system, looked at the swirling chaos of the Vortex. The only thing left on his console was the code he'd written just seconds before. Kris looked out at the madness of the Vortex and wished suddenly that he'd had a chance to tell Adam he loved him. It wouldn't have changed anything but Kris wished he could have said it anyway. He highlighted the code and hit the flashy red '`EXECUTE'.`

There was a flash of white light...


	17. Chapter 17

Adam was numb.

No that wasn’t right.

He was angry and hurt and empty, so goddamned empty that it physically hurt. Even now, a week later, he still couldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind went back to the job, picking over every little detail until Adam was convinced that he’d done something wrong.

Everything had started to come crashing down only seconds after he’d hit Kris’ emergency dump button and shoved him through the emergency exit. It had been just in time too. Not even a second after the door closed, a team of _Trojan_ security guards had burst through the door, guns blazing and Adam had opened fire right back. Kris had gotten away and Adam had been left to face the hoards of _Trojan_ security personnel on his own and that was the way he wanted it, the way he’d planned it. Kris needed to get out. He needed to escape and Adam had bought him the time. Pulling two hand guns, Adam had stood there, taking out any guard who even looked in the direction that Kris had run.

That was where it had all gone to shit. He’d emptied both clips and slammed two more home when the klaxons had started blaring. Adam hadn’t spared them a glance, dismissing them as just some fucking belated intruder alarm, but when a far-too-calm computer voice announced that they had five minutes until the building blew, well, he couldn’t ignore that. Someone – and Adam prayed that it wasn’t Kris – had enabled the building’s self destruct sequence.

“FOUR MINUTES FORTY FIVE SECONDS TO SELF… FOUR MINUTES TWENTY SECONDS TO SELF… FOUR MINUTES TO SELF DESTRUCT.”

The voice kept cutting itself off and lowering the number and Adam cursed. Right there, he knew that it had to be Kris and that meant that even now, Kris was plugged in somewhere and manipulating the system. There was no way Kris could have made it out of the complex and found a secure port. He had to still be inside _Trojan_.

This wasn’t what Adam wanted. He’d been prepared to go down. He’d known the odds, worked them out, and yeah, he knew that everything pointed to this being a suicide job. Adam hadn’t accepted that. He'd been ready to die if that was what it took but he'd never intended to let Kris get himself killed. From the instant that Kris had told him about the stupid fucking merc who’d sold him out, Adam had known that if one of them was getting out, that it was going to be Kris. But the stupid damned runner had clearly had different ideas.

Well screw that and screw him.

Adam kicked in everything, pushing his system so far into redline that everything was red-tinged in his optics just from the warning lights. Three minutes. He had three minutes to find Kris and drag him out of there by his scrawny little ass. And then there would be words!

Adam spun, and ran down the corridor, ignoring the ping of bullets as they slammed harmlessly against his back, stopped by his armor. He ran from corridor to corridor but heavy blast shields kept making him turn back and try another way, and he was getting frantic. Just as he was about to turn a corner, he heard footsteps behind him and the whirr of a minigun spinning up. One of _Trojan_ ’s heavy cybered anti-invasion troops stood in the corridor with a grin so wide that Adam was convinced that the guy had crossed the line into psycho.

Just as the first bullet left the barrel, one of the blast doors slammed down between them and Adam heard the ricochet off the metal. After that, doors started raising in front of him and slamming shut behind him and Adam felt like he was being herded down and out of the building. It had been like being back in the Fortress office all over again and Adam had felt his heart leap. It had to be Kris, just had to be, or else _Trojan_ was setting up a hell of an ambush somewhere.

“TWO MINUTES TO SELF DESTRUCT.”

The countdown skipped again and Adam ran – he had no choice – down the stairwell and out into the lobby.

Two security guards were standing over a computer terminal, odd shaped keys in their hands, trying desperately to slot them into a panel that wouldn’t unlock.

“Run the program again,” one of the guards said and the other tapped something into the keyboard.

“It’s not working. The system keeps stopping it before it works,” the other replied, throwing up his hands.

They noticed Adam a few seconds too late and that was the last thing they saw. Then, Adam was out and the building locked down tight and there was nothing he could do except hope that Kris made it out, that he was doing this from somewhere else. Somewhere far away but Adam didn’t think he was.

He stopped just inside the gate and looked up at the towering monstrosity of the building before him. _Trojan_ ’s computer controlled display, an LCD display board about half way up the building, and usually displaying their logo all hours of the day, blinked and stuttered and then scrolling around the entire display, instead of the stylized helmet and logo, three letters repeated over and over again until they filled every inch of the display. DEx. DEx. DEx.

Adam shook his head, hands rubbing at his eyes, praying but he looked up and it was still there; the fucking stupid calling card. There, forty floors up where the whole city could see, was Hijack’s calling card and Adam’s heart fell.

 _Nebula_ knew what Kris had looked like. Cale had told him as much when he’d handed over a chip with too much money on it. They knew that it had to be him, so Kris was closing out that account too. Taking himself permanently out of the game. And this was never how Adam wanted this to play out.

Adam backed away as the first charges blew, getting outside the gates as rubble and dust started to fly. It was professionally done, with the building reduced to a ten foot high pile of rubble in seconds and under it somewhere, Kris.

Adam’s heart broke, shattered under the rubble and his breath caught. He took a step backwards, then another and another until he nearly tripped over the kerb.

Adam’s bike unlocked once he was in range and he swung his leg over and pulled on his helmet. He felt cold without Kris’ weight against his back but he knew that he couldn’t stay. With a last lingering look at the devastation, he turned over the bike’s engine and swung for home.

He barely topped a hundred on the ride, swinging loose circles around the city just in case he was followed. He parked up and locked the bike before going up to his apartment. Plans and maps covered the table in the living room and he could still catch the faint smell of sex in the air. He sat down heavily on the sofa and cradled his face in his hands.

He’d lost Kris. Somewhere in the chaos of the run, he’d lost Kris. It wasn’t long before Adam pulled out a brand new bottle of vodka and lost himself in the haze of alcohol.

 

Adam woke to the sharp tone of his phone and groped wildly for it, trying to cancel whatever fucking call was trying to wake him. He looked at the display and winced as he saw Allison’s name flash up. He hit disconnect and collapsed back down on the bed, wincing as his head protested. The phone beeped again less than a minute later and Adam glanced at the screen. Twelve voice mails and double that in text messages, and still Adam couldn’t feel guilty.

He thumbed through the messages. It was pretty much what he expected, ‘Please call me. Let me know you’re okay’, turning more worried with each message but there, at the bottom of his inbox was a message from a withheld number. Sitting up, Adam opened it and blinked. A notification of a new email.

Pulling himself out of the bed, Adam logged into his computer and looked at the message again. It said nothing but there was a data file attached. He saved it and opened it and there, right there, was everything Adam needed to get their payoff; blueprints; patent docs; technical tests; even video of the first trials of _Trojan_ ’s groundbreaking neural cybernetic bridge OD-3SSEU5-20. Hidden away in one of the folders was details of the faults that _Trojan_ had neatly built in to ensure that it had to be changed every twelve months.

Adam tossed the computer down on the table and was tempted to throw it against the wall. He could care less about the damned job or the payoff. All he wanted was Kris and he couldn’t have him.

It took him another hour and four missed calls from Allison to convince him that he probably needed to go see her, show her that he wasn’t with Kris under the mountain of rubble where he belonged. He set the data to copy before stepping into the shower and then getting dressed. Adam didn’t bother with his hair or even eyeliner, just gathered up the chip and left.

He snuck in the back door when he got there, and slipped into Allison’s office. She was hunched over her computer, phone clutched in her hand and not paying attention. She looked terrible, every bit as bad as Adam felt and guilt started to wrap itself around his heart.

“Hey honey.”

Allison looked up and blinked and then she was throwing herself into his arms and he was catching her. He felt her shake as she cried and he just held her, his hands on her waist. After a while, she pulled back and looked behind him.

“Where’s Juniper?”

Adam kept his face blank. He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t have the words. She looked at him for a second and knew. She stepped backwards, her hand going to her mouth and shook her head.

“Oh Adam,” and then she was hugging him again. “I tried calling Kickstand and Drew but neither of them picked up and you weren’t picking up either and Juniper’s phone number doesn’t work any more…”

Adam took that in. They were the last ties to Juniper in the city. Without them, he’d be untraceable. Or he would have been. Now, though, it didn’t really make much difference. Kris was gone and Adam was empty.

Adam’s hands stayed by his sides this time and after a minute, he pushed her back.

“Everything you need is on the chip,” he said, handing her the small black device. “I’ve looked at it and it all seemed to be there. Can you take care of that?”

She frowned, watching him, but nodded, “Sure. Adam, are you…?”

Adam cut across her, “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t and he knew that she knew that, but he couldn’t say anything else. Not yet.

“How’s the media covering it?” he asked, needing to know if Kris’ last message got out, if anyone had seen it.

Allison clicked on the vidscreen and changed to one of the local channels. There, in full fucking technicolour, on the screen stood Dillinger and Adam wanted to punch his fist straight through the corporate bastard.

Why couldn’t he have been in the building last night? Why couldn’t it be him instead of Kris? Why? But there were no answers. Adam watched as the man tried to weasel out from answering the reporter’s questions, trying to pin the blame on anyone but him and avoid mentioning DEx. But it was all any reporter could talk about. DEx back on the streets and bringing down corporations and Adam smiled at that. When confronted by the claims he’d made only a couple of weeks ago and asked if that was the reason that DEx had done what they had, he looked like he was going to puke right there on the six o’clock news.

Adam sneered at the live feed as anger bubbled up inside. A plan started to form at the back of his mind. Dillinger had cost him another loved one and Adam was damned sure that the man wasn’t about to get away with it.

Turning to Allison, Adam said, “You’ve still got a couple of contacts at SD-TV don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she answered slowly.

“Can you call in a favor?” Adam asked, his mind ticking away.

“Probably. What do you need?”

Adam tapped his finger against the screen, “I need him. Get them to call him, set up an interview. Something different. Something that’ll be sure to get him. Maybe something about how we need to eliminate runners from the city.” Adam turned to look at her, “Make sure they sell it. They need to appear to be on his side. He’s only in front of the cameras now because he can’t appear to be anywhere else. Not with the shareholders watching. You can see him trying to pin the blame on someone. Let your guys give him the opportunity. But it’s gotta be public. Somewhere corporate.”

Allison watched him for a second longer before nodding, “Okay. I’ll set it up. What are you planning?”

Adam wouldn’t say, just smiled.

 

Three days later, everything was set and Adam stood at the window of a tenth story office, his rifle trained on the man being interviewed below. Two cameras were on him, as the reporter asked him questions about the runner problem in the city. She was one of Allison’s contacts and had agreed to follow Adam’s plan to the letter, anything for an exclusive.

Adam trained the sights on the man, and watched as he smiled and gestured as he spoke about how the city needed to be cleansed of everyone who wasn’t a functioning member of corporate society. The interview wrapped but the cameras stayed on him as a kid ran up and handed Dillinger a note. When asked later, the kid would say that he got paid a hundred creds to deliver it but not remember a single thing about the man who’d given him the money. Dillinger unfolded the note and read it. Adam knew what was on it. He’d written it. It was a list of names, people Dillinger had killed either directly or indirectly over the years, it wasn’t complete, it couldn’t be, but there at the bottom were three names: Leila Lambert, Neil Lambert and Juniper.

It was a risk, Adam knew that, but he wanted this man, this man walking around in his three thousand cred suits with not a care in the world while around him people died at his orders dead more than he cared about the risks. Adam watched through the scope as the man frowned and then, there it was, recognition, understanding and that was when Adam pulled the trigger.

It was a perfect shot.

Adam dropped the rifle and ran straight for his primary exit route. His bike was waiting for him outside and he was gone before anyone could even start to track him. Over his shoulder, he could see the black AV’s circling over the interview site and start to spread out, but he was heading for the gauntlet and picking up speed.

It had been four days and Adam felt satisfaction when he thought about what he’d done, but it wasn’t enough to fill the gaping hole that had been left. Adam still felt numb, just going through the motions, but there was nothing else he could do. He’d known that killing Dillinger wasn’t going to bring back his mom or his brother or even Kris, but Adam’d expected some feeling of peace, of vengeance settled, but there was nothing, just an empty void.

Adam needed to leave the city, get some distance. Seattle was good, or maybe Boston. He’d move and start new, with no painful memories pulling him down.

In the end, the destination was New York and Firecracker had picked it. She was planning on opening a new club, a second _Idolize_ , and figured that New York with its flexible definition of night would be the best place. Adam didn’t argue. It didn’t matter to him. But he packed up everything he needed and what cash he had and five days from now he’d be looking at another set of streets.

It wouldn’t help.

Adam put on a brave face, hid everything he could from Allison and got to work. Life went on, even if he didn’t want it to and he had shows to perform. Four more shows and they’d be able to leave this all behind.

 

Adam stepped onto the stage, his heartbreak hidden behind leather and a too thick layer of foundation. His smile was fake, he knew that, but no one seemed to notice. He hated the crowd a little for that. They wanted the fast songs, the upbeat, uptempo songs that they could sing along to when all he wanted to do was pour out every bit of the pain that he was feeling, pour it out onto the stage. But Adam gave them what they wanted, steering away from the slower, sadder numbers because he wasn’t even close to wanting to answer questions on exactly how he managed to make himself sound so sad.

Silverfyre hit all his cues and strutted across the stage like he owned it and everything was just a little bit harsher than usual, the lights, the lyrics, his sound, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be there.

And that was when he noticed. There in the crowd, just out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of something that made his heart stutter. Adam stuttered over his line, eyes squinting, trying to catch sight of whatever it was again, but whoever it had been was gone again. So he turned and walked over to the other side of the stage. But as he turned, he saw it again, just a flash of brown hair and brown eyes. Adam moved closer, eyes flicking from face to face to face until… there! There in the middle of the crowd and smiling up at him was Kris!


	18. Chapter 18

The whole world fell away for a second as Kris met Adam's eyes. Kris thought he'd remembered every detail of Adam's face, how he'd stood, how he'd walked and how he'd _owned_ the stage. Staring up at Adam as the band played around him and Adam stared at Kris like he'd seen a ghost, Kris was staggered by how much more potent Adam was. Then the crowd, screaming and clapping, lunged for the stage and the spell was broken.

Kris blinked, looking down at the table and his hands shook as he fumbled for the glass. The tremors were only partially down to the lingering shocks that still sparked his nervous system. His newest tattoo, barely healed even with help of nanites, glowed around his left ring finger. Cale didn't entirely approve and Drew was going to hit the roof when he saw it but Kris loved it.

Frankie had installed it, tracing out the intricate design while chattering away and catching Kris up on everything he'd done for the last five years. Kris could still hardly imagine Frankie as a club musician but he looked happy and his new boyfriend was a strange guy but one of the good ones. Kris was admittedly somewhat biased; the boyfriend hadn't batted an eye when Frankie dragged Kris, still seizing and more dead than alive, through their front door and announced he was going to be staying in their spare room. Kris hadn't even realized how much he'd missed Root until Frankie was chattering away in his ear about network algorithms and improved AIs. Frankie wasn't going by Root anymore of course, not outside the Net but he'd been happy at the chance to dust off his deck.

Cale had made it back to the city the day after _Trojan_ 's spectacular implosion as word from Washington of a whole-sale investigation hit the headlines. Cale had shown up, red-eyed and wan, after driving clear across the country overnight. He'd hugged Kris so hard that he'd cracked one of Kris' ribs. Then he'd made Kris promise not to argue with Nakamura and to never, ever, ever do that to him again. His new shop in NYC was nearly ready to open and Kris knew Cale wanted him to come back to the East Coast with him. Kris had agreed, tentatively.

Cale and Frankie were in the crowd, close enough to step in if Kris needed them but far enough away that they weren't immediately visible. Kris had asked for privacy. He and Adam...well, Kris didn't know what exactly he and Adam were going to talk about but he wanted the conversation to be as private as possible. Cale and Frankie had smuggled him past security because Kris hadn't been sure Adam even wanted to see him again.

With Adam still staring down at him from the stage, mouthing along absently to the chorus of the song, Kris felt very stupid.

The song came to an end and Kris wondered how many songs were left in the act. Adam was talking to the drummer, eyes still fixed on Kris and he stepped up to the microphone. "You guys having fun? We're gonna take a quick break. Cocktails are two-for-one for the next two hours, so why don't you buy yourself one and bring the other back for your extra special someone."

Adam actually did want to talk to him. The distraction wasn't graceful and it sure as hell wasn't elegant but it stopped the set dead. The crowd whooped and cheered and Frankie used the distraction to drop a soda water in front of Kris and an AK47 in a highball glass in front of the empty seat opposite him.

It was against every instruction Nakamura had given him, but Kris really, really wished he could have a strong drink. He had half-convinced himself that just one would be all right when Adam shoved past the last of the dancers.

Adam hovered by the table for a minute. Kris had forgotten how tall he was. His expression, under the dramatic stage make-up, was utterly blank. He stood there for nearly a minute in silence, not doing anything but looking at Kris. "I thought you were dead."

Kris winced from the stark tone and looked down, thumbs rubbing at his bandaged plugs. "You weren't the only one. If Ro- _Frankie_ hadn't seen me light _Nebula_ up, I probably wouldn't have made it out."

"I tried to look for you," Adam's voice sounded hollow and he sat heavily into the chair, reaching for the cocktail. "Then the building blew."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting _Trojan_ to cut out the fail safes," Kris didn't remember much of what it had been like after he hacked his own plugs. Nakamura thought it was probably a form of traumatic amnesia and Kris was probably better off not remembering. He did remember the flash of utter terror when he realized that he was losing control of the destruction cycle. He'd fought so hard until Draghos had finally flagged Adam as safely out of the building. "I was out for a couple of days. Hacking your own cyberware isn't safe, who'da thunk? By the time I was able to stand without two people holding me up, it had been like...a week and I figured..." Kris shrugged, playing with his drink as his tattoo caught the light. "Why bother you? Then Frankie told me you were looking into DEx's big comeback."

Adam's gaze locked on the tattoo. Kris fought down the urge to hide his hand under the table. "I did some digging, yeah. I just wanted to... I don't even know what I was trying to do, but I guess I just needed to do something, anything, to be close to...” Adam broke off and Kris nearly screamed. Close to what? Close to who? "Shit, I'm an idiot. How are you now? Did you fry your circuits again? Do we need to get you back to Nakamura?"

"I'm barred from the net for another week while he makes sure I didn't give myself brain-damage," Kris admitted candidly. "The prognosis is good but no-one's ever hacked their plugs and lived to tell the tale so he's being paranoid."

Kris looked at his drink for a second. There was something there, something Kris' poor battered brain hadn't caught...Kris looked up at Adam. "Why were you looking for me? Did the data file not get through? Frankie told me he'd sent it the same night?"

"Yeah," Adam flicked a distracted glance at Kris' face then carried on staring at the tattoo. Kris was starting to feel dread pooling in his stomach and it was a struggle not to assume the worst. He'd known that Adam was going to see the tattoo but he hadn't expected Adam to hate it so much. "Yeah, it got through fine. Firecracker settled the contract the next day. I still have your half of the payout. Was trying to find out where to send it after... Well, after I thought the building fell on you. I figured that you'd want it to go to DEx, especially after they started hitting corps again."

"Keep it," Kris said immediately. DEx took the money they needed directly from the accounts of the corps they targeted. "This was never about the money."

"I can't just keep it," Adam sounded almost angry, still glaring at the tattoo. "That wouldn't be right. You did your share of work on the run..." There was a pause before Adam cleared his throat. "So this Frankie... You're close?"

"Your run, your payout," Kris insisted. Adam's sudden change of topic caught him by surprise and he blinked. He'd told Adam about Frankie. "Frankie? Yeah, he's an old friend - I told you about him, I think. Used to go by-" Kris darted a nervous glance around at the mostly empty dance floor. "-Root? He and his boyfriend loaned me their spare room until Kickstand could get back to the city."

"His boyfriend?" Adam looked confused, anger flaring in the depth of his eyes before he shrugged it off, gaze back on the tattoo circling Kris' finger. "Nevermind. I've no right to ask."

No right to ask what? Kris wondered. Kris had thought the tattoo was pretty self-explanatory. Was Adam going to demand that Kris get it taken out? Kris looked down, thumb rubbing along the curve of his finger. "Frankie did that for me. It's been a while since I got new ink but it's been a while since I had something worth commemorating."

Kris held his hand out before he could completely lose his nerve. The dim club lights made the silver silica shine. Frankie had asked him about the pattern three times before they started. Kris had insisted. The narrow band of silver flames was less than a quarter inch wide, made up of lines of tiny ones and zeroes that spelt out Adam's real name and social security number. It was ridiculously sentimental but Kris refused to be ashamed.

Adam reached out to take his hand and his thumb brushed reverently down the back of Kris' hand and over the tattoo. "Kinda looks like..."

He trailed off and his eyes came up. There was something vulnerable in the way he stared at Kris. "It kinda looks like silver flames."

"Yeah. That's the point," Kris straightened up, lifting his chin defiantly. "I'm not-...this isn't an obligation. You made no promises and I'm not going to act like you did. I did that for me and I don't regret it."

Adam was still stroking a finger over the tattoo like he couldn't believe it was real but he hadn't looked away from Kris' face. "Why?"

"Some things....some things change you forever," Kris swallowed. Keeping his eyes on Adam's face was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "Falling in love? That's one of them."

"It wasn't just me," Adam breathed, his hand closing around Kris' tightly. He was starting to smile and Kris stared at him. Hope was warring with fear and Kris couldn't breathe. "I should have said something before the run but, well, with how you felt about mercs and everything, I didn't want to pressure you. I'm sorry."

There was no way Adam just said what Kris thought he'd said. He could feel Adam's pulse under his fingers and Kris trembled. "....not just you? What wasn't just you?"

"You know my rep, what it was before you came along, right? I'm fairly sure that even the most basic search would pull up that I played the field. But I never brought anyone back to my place. That was my space, personal to me and no one else. I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing when I brought you back that first night, but well... It felt right. You fitted just right and I started really hoping that whatever we had would last after the run, that you wouldn't disappear straight away. I had feelings for you, strong feelings - I'm not saying love because I don't know if it was, not then - but later, when we..." Adam broke off, gasping in a breath and continuing. Kris clung to his hand and tried to understand the flood of words. "By then, yeah, it was definitely starting to look like I was falling in love. And then after the job... Losing you tore me apart. I was only up on stage because Firecracker caught me in an off moment and talked me into doing a few last shows before we leave."

"You -you're saying you-you-you're in _love with **me**._ " Kris checked, heart in his throat.

"Yeah. I am," Adam looked down at Kris' hand and his expression changed. He looked...ashamed? "And then I saw the ring and I thought maybe you'd hooked up with someone else... Yeah, I'm in love with you."

"You're serious?" Kris' voice cracked. He'd been ready for Adam to hate him, ready for Adam to reject him but he wasn't ready to believe - had never dreamed - that Adam might seriously love him back

"Totally."

"But you're leaving..." Kris had promised to go to NYC. He - _They_ couldn't stay in San Diego but all the posters had said Adam and Firecracker were leaving at the end of next week. Frankie had said something...if only Kris could remember what he'd said.

"The city is getting a little hot. Corps are gearing up for war. DEx have everyone sitting up and taking notice. Local news says that anti-corp sentiment is at an all time high. And well, with Dillinger getting taken out while being interviewed on national news, the execs are starting to get twitchy. Thought it was best to get out of the city," Adam paused. "You could come with. We could give this a try?"

"Kickstand's opening a new shop. I kinda promised...." Cale, that was it. Frankie had been looking up where Firecracker was going for Cale. They were going to New York! Kris smiled radiantly at Adam. "You could always look me up if you visit New York?"

"New York, eh?" Adam laughed. "I just might. Firecracker is opening a new bar up that way. Do I even want to know how you found out?"

"Frankie might have done a little digging on Kickstand's behalf," Kris couldn't hold back the smile. "I meant it though. You don't owe me anything. If you're just doing this because you feel guilty about the _Trojan_ thing..."

"Did you miss the part where I said I was in love with you?" Adam demanded. "'Cause if you're having problems remembering, then I'm dragging you straight back to Nakamura right the fuck now."

"If you're dragging me anywhere involving poking," Kris interrupted, eyes flicking down over Adam's scanty stage clothes. "I'm expecting it to be a lot more pleasurable than that!"

"I think we can manage that," Adam smiled. He stood up, still holding Kris' hand and tugged Kris to his feet. It felt like the world was spinning under his feet but this time, Kris was absolutely certain that the dizzy feeling had nothing to with his fried brain. Adam pulled Kris closer, wrapping his arms loosely around Kris' waist as he kissed him. "My bike's waiting outside ..."

Kris kissed him back, rising up on his toes to kiss Adam back. The groan that escaped as he felt Adam's cock, hard and hot, against his hip made him blush. Adam smirked down at him and Kris pouted. "Don't you have a set to finish?"

Adam looked puzzled, for second, kissing along the line of Kris' jaw then his eyes widened and he looked back at the stage. "Shit, the set..."

Kris tugged him back down into a proper kiss and Adam's eyes were glazed when they finally broke for air. "Meh, they can wait."

Kris laughed, rocking his hips just enough to rub Adam up the right way. "Won't Firecracker be upset with you?"

"Probably," Adam caught Kris' hips and pulled him closer, smiling wolfishly down at him. "Ask me if I care."

Kris opened his mouth and Adam kissed him, tongue sliding deep and stealing his breath.

"I missed you," Adam breathed against his neck and Kris pulled him closer.

"Yeah," Kris whispered against Adam's ear. "Missed you too."


End file.
